


Failure Is Not An Option

by Rudbeck



Series: Options [3]
Category: Person of Interest (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/F
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-03-18
Updated: 2018-07-24
Packaged: 2018-10-07 10:16:06
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 24,194
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10358100
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rudbeck/pseuds/Rudbeck
Summary: The final battle begins with contract killers, Greer bringing Samaritan back on line, finding the new base, Bodil dealing who was on the phone and which side does she go with, teasing by Fusco and Reese when they find out it was Shaw that proposed and among all of this Root's trying to figure out exactly what type of wedding she can convince Shaw to participate in. Will they elope or will there be a wedding at all?





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> * Quote from Piet Hein. It's actually a mathematics quote but it works well for the series.

Chapter 1  
  
At a slow pace Greer maneuvers his wheelchair through the server room. It would be an eye-opener to many that he enjoyed listening to the hum of cooling fans that are surprisingly quiet in the large room. He enjoyed watching the technicians at work running diagnostics on the many servers that are lined up row after row like the terra-cotta warriors guarding the mausoleum of the first Qin emperor of China. They are dedicated, they are loyal, and unless infected with a virus or a Trojan horse, they do exactly what they were designed for, to provide power.  
  
Power is a peculiar beast. It can be used for the greatest of things but, as often is the case, it transforms those that obtain it. These transformations, depending on your view, can either be good or bad.  
  
Greer had seen how power had changed those in his government and those in the supposedly evil governments they were fighting against. The epiphany that both sides wanted the same thing came with the betrayal of his superior. There was no them versus us, no evil empire against the good empire. Rather, in the most simplistic of terms, it was one bully fighting another bully.  
  
Once he had cut all ties to his former life, he had spent time carefully searching out others that had come to the same conclusion that there would never be a clear winner unless there was a bigger force. That bigger force became Samaritan.  
  
The security, for this new base, had been increased tenfold. There were more sensors, cameras and more random physical patrols. ID badges had to be used to enter almost every room of this new facility. Anyone that entered this new base of operations had been through a far reaching vetting process.  
  
A completely isolated server was dedicated to checking any and all external electronic devices that were gathered in the field. There would not be a repeat of the debacle at the primary compound where The Machine had gained entrance into Samaritan’s servers through a Trojan horse program buried in the depths of a retrieved laptop.  
  
A technician approaches Greer holding a remote. “Have all the diagnostics been completed?”  
  
“Yes, sir. Also all connections especially the external ones have been disabled and will remain so until they, on your orders only, are manually reconnected.”  
  
“Excellent. Anything else?”  
  
“No, sir.” He hands the remote to Greer. “I assumed you would like the pleasure of reactivating the program?”  
  
Greer studies the remote in his hand and then at the rows of servers that are waiting to power their god. “I would indeed.” He activates the remote and smiles. The increasing hum of the servers is indicative that the Samaritan program has begun to course through their circuitry. In the far corner of the server room one of the servers has a light that blinks red for a few seconds before turning green. The action warrants no response from any of the technicians monitoring the servers.  
  
Greer had learned from the mistakes of the last two encounters with The Machine and its motley, but extremely capable, crew. But soon their attentions would be directed towards saving their own lives and not with stopping Samaritan. He smiles as he dials a number on his cell. “Up the contracts to ten million with verifiable proof of death. Include the contracts for Ms. Groves and Ms. Shaw as well” He ends the call. “That should keep them busy, if they manage to survive.” His laugh is that of a man that is about to gain the two greatest prizes possible, the destruction of his arch enemies and the unimpeded spread of Samaritan’s influence.  
  
Lost in the thought of his forthcoming victory, he fails to notice that his cell has lit up for a brief moment before going dark.  
  
✶✶✶  
  
Bodil, her knees pulled up tight to her chest, stares at the cell phone that sits on the floor of the kitchen. She’s so lost in thought that the house could be burning down around her and she wouldn’t even realize what was happening.  
  
She had spent the first year ruthlessly tracking down every byte of information about Radicle, who was proving not only to be elusive but a ghost in the machine. Her exploits were whispered about on the dark net just as Hávarðr’s had been. Then all mentions of Radicle’s exploits had ceased.  
  
In fact she wasn’t even sure that Radicle was a woman until an email, from an unknown source, contained the photo she had shown Greer. She had run a far more advance face recognition program, but even with this new information Radicle was still proving to be very elusive.  
  
Finding Greer had been very fortuitous. She had been tracking down a lead, near a heliport when a helicopter had landed. An SVU had pulled up to the helicopter and to her surprise, Greer had exited the vehicle and entered the helicopter.  
  
She had hacked into the FAA flight data but any reference to Greer’s helicopter either had been erased or had never been entered in the first place. Later that night she had snuck into the heliport offices to search their electronic files but that had proven to be a mostly fruitless endeavor. She had found a vague reference to a Decima Technologies in of all places on a post it note stuck to the bottom of a coffee cup in the trash.  
  
Setting up a surveillance nest had provided not only information on Greer but the people in his employment. One of them would tell her what she needed to know and she knew exactly which one it would be. It had been easy to find him alone and inject him with a sedative. It took very little time to find out just about everything she needed to know. Where the compound was that contained the Samaritan program that Greer was allied with, to a backup base somewhere near Montauk, to a shoot on sight order for a Ms. Groves, who had temporarily been captured and escaped.  
  
Intrigued about why Greer had ordered such an extreme solution for one woman, the sedated man wasn’t able to provide exactly why. He was able to retrieve a picture of Ms. Groves.  
  
She had been ecstatic when she had seen the picture. She had finally found the woman she called The Butcher. A plan quickly took shape, she’d use Greer and his resources to get closer to The Butcher and then take her revenge for Hávarðr’s death. Once that was accomplished, she’d repay Greer for what he had done to Oleg.  
  
As quickly as her plan had come together, it just as quickly began to unravel. Everything she had learned from The Butcher, her protector Shaw and the new information her contacts had been able to find pointed at a far more reaching and deeper conspiracy than she had ever thought possible.  
  
She had been so sure she knew who was behind Hávarðr’s death and why. The phone call she had just received proved just how wrong she had been about everything.  
  
✶✶✶  
  
’Spiderman’ enters the kitchen where Elias is putting together the final touches of a plate of pasta carbonara. “Boss, we got a problem.”  
  
“Concerning?”  
  
“Rumors that large contracts are about to be issued.”  
  
“How large?”  
  
“At least five million a piece.”  
  
“Against?”  
  
“Only got two names so far. Fusco and Reese.”  
  
“Reach out to everyone, I want to know who issued the contracts.”  
  
“That price is gonna bring freelancers in.”  
  
Elias turns and sets down the plate, “Put out the word that Fusco and Reese are NYPD and are under my protection. That should deter many of the freelancers.”  
  
“And if it doesn’t?”  
  
“Then they will have to be taught a lesson.”  
  
“We gonna become their problem.”  
  
“Yes. If you hear of a contract on either Ms. Groves or Ms. Shaw, make it immediately known they are also under my protection.”  
  
’Spiderman’ nods and exits the room.  
  
“Greer, you are about to learn that problems worthy of attack prove their worth by fighting back.” *  
  
Elias sighs as he studies the plate of pasta that’s going to have to wait. He picks up a cell phone.  
  
✶✶✶  
  
Finch puts the ringing phone on speaker, “Hello.”  
  
_“Hello Harold.”_  
  
“Elias, any news?”  
  
_“Yes, but not on the servers or where our friend has disappeared to.”_  
  
“That is unfortunate. And the news would be about?”  
  
_“There are rumors of a rather sizable contract being issued for Mr. Reese and Det. Fusco.”_  
  
Finch’s eyes widen as he turns to stare at the monitors, “How sizable?”  
  
_“Five million.”_  
  
“I see. Nothing on Ms. Groves or Ms. Shaw?”  
  
_“As of yet, no. But its only a matter of time before there are contracts on them.”_  
  
“Elias…”  
  
_“I’ve already taken steps. I’ve made it known that Reese and Fusco are under my personal protection. If contracts are issued on Ms. Groves and Ms. Shaw, then I’ll make it known they are also under my protection.”_  
  
“Freelancers aren’t going to respect that.”  
  
_“Most will. Though there are ones that will take it as a challenge.”_  
  
Finch turns as one of the monitors comes to life. He watches as multiple files begin to rapidly appear. “Elias, I may have a list of possible freelancers that may see the contract on two NYPD officers as a worthy challenge.”  
  
_“Excellent. That will help considerably.”_  
  
“Elias, thank you.”  
  
_“You’re welcome.”_  
  
Finch ends the call. He taps his ear bud, “Mr. Reese.”  
  
_“Any news Harold?”_  
  
“Yes. Someone may have issued a contract for you and Det. Fusco.”

_"May have?"_

"Elias' people have only heard rumors, but I suspected those rumors will be confirmed."  
  
_“Greer?”_  
  
“It would be safe to assume he is behind it.”  
  
_“A distraction to keep us from going after him.”_  
  
“Indeed.”  
  
_“Root and Shaw?”_  
  
“Elias hasn’t heard anything. But he’ll let us know.”  
  
_“Harold, you’re at the top of Greer’s hit list.”_  
  
“As is Root and Ms. Shaw.”  
  
_“Agreed. When are they coming back?”_  
  
“Tomorrow. I’ll update them then.”  
  
_“Good. Be careful Harold.”_  
  
“Tell Det. Fusco to be vigilant and remain safe.”  
  
_“I’ll tell him.”_  
  
“And Mr. Reese…”  
  
_“I’ll do the same.”_  
  
“Please do.”  
  
Finch ends the connection. The map showing the various possibilities for Greer’s Beta site appears on a monitor. Red dots begin to disappear. “Do you have an exact location?” The word, “No,” appears on the screen. A much smaller map appears with the midpoint being half way between Boston and Portsmouth, New Hampshire. “That does narrow the possibilities.” He begins to research each of the remaining dots.  
✶✶✶  
  
Root leans against the door jam looking out across the expanse of ocean. She knew, from experience, the world and life wasn’t fair. She had been seen as, except by Hanna, the odd little girl from the wrong side of town, a throwaway kid. When she had lost Hanna the world had become far colder and far emptier. But then, to her utter amazement and astonishment, she had found what she hadn’t even known she had lost.  
  
The thumb of her left hand absentmindedly twirls the welcoming weight of the ring Sameen had surprised her with just days before. It was a weight she never expected to feel and one she never ever intends to give up.  
  
As arms slide around her, she leans back into, and relaxes against, the solid form that is her fiancée. “I’m going to miss this place.” She can feel the chuckle long before she hears it. “You’re going to miss it just as much as me.”  
  
“And why would you think that?”  
  
Turning within the confines of the arms around her, Root’s hands slide up and around Sameen’s neck. “Clothing optional.”  
  
“Tinted windows in the apartment.”  
  
“We can be as,” she leans in and whispers, “loud as we want.”  
  
Sameen smirks before responding with, “Soundproofing on the walls, floors and windows.”  
  
“No one will bother us.”  
  
“Everyone already knows where we are. Any other reasons?”  
  
Root leans in even closer, her voice soft, “It’s where you proposed and I accepted.”  
  
Sameen tilts her head to one side as she studies Root, “Technically that happened on the base.”  
  
An exasperated, “Sameen?” has Shaw responding with an innocent, “Root?”  
  
“Sweetie, there has to be something special about this place?”  
  
“There is.” She grasps Root’s left hand and holds it between them. “It’s where I gave you,” she kisses the ring, “my heart.”  
  
A mischievous smile is the only warning Sameen gets before Root pushes her hard into the wall. “And you have mine.”  
  
“Just your heart?”  
  
“No, you have all of me,” she dips her head until her lips are almost touching Sameen’s, “for as long as you want.”  
  
“Always wanted a long term hobby.” As their lips connect, Sameen’s fingers are deftly untucking Root’s shirt. After all Root did say clothing was optional and she was curious on just how loud they could be.  
  
  
  
  
TBC


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2  
  
Fusco is driving with Reese in the passenger seat. “Only five million? Ya think they would have made it more for two NYPD Detectives.”  
  
“Thinking about collecting the bounty Lionel?”  
  
He looks sideways at Reese, “Sure and then Shoot would find me before I could even collect.”  
  
Reese turns to look at Fusco, “Shoot?”  
  
“Shaw and Root. Thought you military types were all about acronyms.”  
  
Reese’s lips twitch in amusement at the thought of exactly how Shaw would react to the nickname, that truthfully was a perfect acronym for the two women. “Shoot is exactly what Shaw will do if you call them that.”  
  
“You think I’m crazy enough to say it in front of them?” Fusco shakes his head.  
  
“Didn’t stop you from calling Root, Cocoa Puffs, Nutella, Nutter Butter, Cuckoo’s Nest, Banana Nut Crunch or Princess. And to her face, no less.”  
  
Fusco swerves to avoid a delivery van. “Yeah I know Root’s dangerous but Shaw…” He shudders, “Just one look from her…well Root was the safer option.”  
  
Laughter fills the car. “I’m not sure how Root would react to being called the safer option.”  
  
Even Fusco is chuckling, “Well she was until Shaw went missing.”  
  
Reese’s phone pings. He looks at the message, “Lionel stop the car.”  
  
Fusco looks around not seeing anything amiss. “Why?”  
  
“Stop the car now?”  
  
Fusco slams on the brakes just as large delivery van bursts out of an alley. It just barely misses the front end of the car. The passenger side of the van opens and a man leaps out and begins firing at them. The shooters inexperience with the weapon is evident as the bullets are ricocheting off the roof of the car, other cars, as well as the buildings on the far side of the street.  
  
Another shooter comes out from around the rear of the van. His shots are as inaccurate as the first shooters. Rather than aiming at Reese and Fusco, his shots are slamming into the upper part of the drivers side door and shattering the windshield. Fusco and Reese duck the flying glass. “Who the hell are these guys?”  
  
“The first of many wanting to collect on the contract.” Reese pulls his weapon. “You ready?” Fusco pulls his weapon and nods. Rather than simply stepping out, they open the doors and use them for cover. They lean out and fire under the door at the exposed legs of the gunmen. Screams of pain, and the immediate lack of gunfire, makes it evident that both shooters have quickly been disabled.  
  
Fusco and Reese step out from the cover of their car doors to survey the damage. “Damn amateurs.”  
  
Sirens are heard approaching as civilians cautiously appear from where ever they had taken protection. _“Mr. Reese, are you and Detective Fusco alright?”_  
  
Reese taps his earbud. “We’re fine Harold. Seems someone wanted to collect on the bounty. Fortunately they were lousy shots.”  
  
 _“There are bound to be more attacks as the contracts have been increased to ten million. Myself, Ms.Shaw and Root have also been included.”_  
  
“Lionel will be pleased that our deaths are worth ten million.”  
  
 _“Yes, well I’d rather not have to attend a funeral unless….”_  
  
Reese can hear the synapses firing in Harold’s mind. “Harold, what are you thinking?”  
  
 _“Perhaps a way to end the contracts once and for all. Tell the detective that I’m glad he’s okay and for both of you to take every precaution necessary.”_  
  
Before Reese can respond he hears the connection terminated. “What did glasses want?”  
  
“To take every precaution necessary to stay alive.”  
  
Much to the relief of Fusco, backup is flooding the area. The two shooters are quickly handcuffed. “Won’t be much of a problem today. We’re gonna be stuck on desk duty filling out all the paperwork over this shooting.”  
  
“That’s why I have you, Lionel.”  
  
Fusco grabs Reese. “Not this time. Not only are we both going to be doing paperwork, we’re also going to have to try and explain why two armed men, that we know nothing about, were obviously targeting us?”  
  
Reese shrugs, “Road rage?”  
  
“Road rage? The best you can come up with is road rage.” Reese starts to walk away even Fusco’s, “This is not the time to go lone wolf,” doesn’t stop him. But what does stop Reese is, “Do you really want to take a chance and miss Shaw and Root getting married by going off on your own?”  
  
Reese tilts his head to one side. “Lionel? Do you know something?”  
  
Lionel shakes his head. “No. I’m just saying that if they were to get married it would be a shame to miss it.” Reese studies Fusco before walking back to his partner, “Guess over the paperwork we could discuss what type of bachelorette party we could plan for Shaw.”  
  
Fusco shakes his head and chuckles, “That’s simple. A grill with the best cuts of steak cooked perfectly, aged whiskey and an armory of weapons for her to fire. Three of the things she loves the most.”  
  
“She would definitely enjoy all of them. Root, on the other hand, will be more difficult.”  
  
Fusco rolls his eyes. “Really? Other than computers and talking to that big computer, what does Root love the most?”   
  
“Shaw.”  
  
He claps Reese on the shoulder, “Root watching Shaw eat and fire weapons would make her happy. Not sure we can improve on that.”  
  
“Yeah. I wonder.”   
  
“What now?”  
  
“Which one will ask the question?”  
  
Fusco and Reese look at each other and both say, “Root.”  
  
✶✶✶  
  
At an outdoor cafe, a woman sits sipping a cup of coffee. Outwardly she exemplifies a typical first time tourist who is intently reading a book, Atlas Obscura, about the out of the ordinary things to see and do in various cities around the world. But if someone had been able to actually see, beyond the first ten pages, they’d realized that the book is not what it appears to be. The page she is looking at has a candid picture of Fusco and all of the relevant information she needs on the Detective. She turns the page to find the same relevant information on Detective John Riley sans his true identity.  
  
Her name, or at least the one she’s using for this job, is Claire Saunders. But it doesn’t really matter, she’ll shed this identity for a new one as soon as she fulfills the contracts. And if she succeeds, she shakes her head, not if but when, she’ll consider retiring. Especially with the new update from the web site that had posted the contracts that three more had been added. The new contracts, including photos, were for a Harold Finch, a Sameen Shaw and a Samantha Groves. The price had also increased to ten million a piece. Plenty of money to simply be where she wanted and to be what she wanted other than a well paid hired gun.  
  
She knew as sizable as these contracts were, every pissant wannabe would be trying to make a name for themselves. In fact she had overheard two idiots walking along the street, with no concern about who could hear them, talking about what they would do with the money.  
  
 _At first she simply shook her head at their stupidity until something garnered her attention, there was another man following them. Now intrigued, she began following all three of them to a bar where the first two entered. The third man continued past the bar talking on a phone and seemingly disappears around the corner._  
  
 _She uses all of her instincts to study her surroundings. Once she’s satisfied that it’s safe, but still playing the role of a tourist, she enters the bar._  
  
 _The bar patrons are a mixture of regulars, students and tourists. She orders a beer and finds a seat that gives her a view of the front door as well as the booth the two men that she had been following are sitting in. If the two men had been talking at normal levels she wouldn’t have been able to hear them but her characterization of them being idiots is proven true as they continue to talk boisterously about what they would do with the money._  
  
 _Pretending to be enjoying the beer, she quietly studies her surroundings and notices that quite a few people are seemingly interested in the idiots. None of them, however, approach them._  
  
 _’Spiderman’ brushes past her and to her surprise and by the reaction of the two wannabes, who obviously weren’t expecting him, sits down. He only stays for a minute but if she hadn’t been watching their interaction she would have never believed the change that came over the two blowhards. They had gone from cocky to scared and ashen faced. They were trembling so much, that even using two hands they sloshed their beer all over the table._  
  
 _She watches ‘Spiderman’ leave before studying the two men and the other bar patrons. When no one approaches the men, she stands and makes her way to their booth. She has to bite back laughter at the way the two men visibly shirk away from her as she stops next to their table._  
  
 _Before she can even pretend to be a lost tourist or any of the other ideas she had to find out who the man, who had obviously terrified them, was, they shook their heads and muttered, “Don’t know nothing.” She barely gets out of the way as the two men bolt out of the bar. Now she’s even more intrigued by the man that had sat down with them and what was said._  
  
 _Some of the patrons watch the two men rush out of the bar before retuning to what they were doing. A feeling of someone watching her has the hairs on the back of her neck standing up. Acting as confused as the rest of the bar patrons, she turns to find the bartender tossing a towel over his shoulder as he walks down the bar and away from her. She returns to her table, grabs her things and nonchalantly exits the bar even though her ingrained sense of survival is screaming at her to get out of the bar as fast as possible._  
  
 _She’s barely through the door when the bartender makes a phone call. “She approached the idiots you were talking to.” He listens, “No, they bolted out the door before she could ask them anything. I’ll send the video to you.” He ends the call and starts for the back room._  
  
“Interesting reading?” Has her closing her book and looking up to find ’Spiderman’ from the bar standing in front of her table. In one hand is a file folder.  
  
“Yes.” She leans back as ’Spiderman’ takes a seat. “I don’t remember inviting you to join me?”  
  
’Spiderman’ smiles. “True.” He places the folder on the table and pushes it toward her. “I think you’ll find this,” he taps the folder, “very interesting reading as well.”  
  
She hides her concern behind a smile. “And why would I be interested in the contents of this folder?”  
  
“Because Ms. Saunders,” he smiles at the slight flinch at the use of her alias, “My boss has a proposition for you.”  
  
“A proposition? Your boss must have me confused with someone else. I’m not that kind of girl.” But her attempt at disdain only causes ’Spiderman’ to smile even more broadly. “My boss knows exactly who,” He taps the folder, “and what you are. When you’re through, we’ll be in touch.”  
  
“And if I don’t accept the proposition?”  
  
’Spiderman’s’ smile never waivers, “We’ll still,” his eyes darken threateningly, “ be in touch.” He stands and walks away leaving a shaken woman behind.  
  
Her fingers tremble as she opens the folder to find a number of photos of her from different places in the world. There was nothing to indicate where each photo was taken or what it represented, but she knew that each photo represented a contract that she had fulfilled. There was nothing else in the folder nor did there need to be. She closes the folder and nods her head in understanding at what the photos represent.  
  
She jumps when a hand lands on her shoulder. “Boss wants to see you.” She nods and stands. ’Spiderman’ gathers the folder and leads her away from the table to a waiting SUV. A hand on her arm dissuades any intentions, no matter how fleeting they were, of her running.  
  
As she enters the SUV she promises herself that if she survives this, she’s retiring effective immediately.  
  
✶✶✶  
  
As Sameen closes the rear door of the Jeep that one of Elias’ crew had delivered, she hears Root approaching. “You ready?” She doesn’t even need to turn around to know that a mischievous sparkle has appeared in Root’s eyes. Arms slide around her and an amused, “You already know the answer,” is followed by a kiss to her cheek. Root’s smile grows as she feels the tense body relax against her. “So who’s driving?”  
  
Root feels a chuckle of amusement before she hears. “I heard about you steering with the heel of your boot while shooting through the sunroof. So I’m driving.”  
  
“Excuse me. I was trying to save Harry and myself. Besides I did have her talking to me. And just who was hanging out a window, shooting while the car was going backwards and turning?”  
  
Sameen turns, making sure to keep her body in constant contact with the warmth against her. She keeps her smile hidden at the shudder she can feel as she leans closer, “But the difference was,” her lips are a hairs breath from touching Root’s, “I wasn’t driving.”  
  
Before Root can move, Sameen slips out of her grasp and jumps into the drivers seat. She smirks at the pout on Root’s face as she walks around the vehicle and gets in, slamming the door. “Fine, but I’m driving the next time.”  
  
“Whatever you say Root.” Sameen puts the Jeep in gear and pulls away from the sanctuary that had been the bungalow. “She have anything to say?”  
  
“Nothing on Samaritan’s location. Though….Greer’s getting desperate.”   
  
“Did he finally come to his senses and ask for the terms of surrender?”  
  
“No. But he is trying to distract us by issuing contracts.”  
  
Sameen’s fingers tighten on the steering wheel. “For you?”  
  
“For all of us. Ten million dollars.”  
  
Sameen’s snort of derision has Root smiling. “Is that all?”  
  
“No, per person.”  
  
“Nice to know what I’m worth.” A burst of laughter has Sameen looking sideways at her. “Oh sweetie, you are worth far more than that to me.” Root’s left hand comes to rest on Sameen’s thigh. Her fingers creating a soothing motion over the tense muscles she can feel under her hand. “And if you need reassurance, I’m sure something can be arranged.”  
  
Sameen’s finger traces the ring on Root’s finger. “That is all the reassurance I need but,” her fingers tighten around Root’s, “feel free to make any arrangements you want.” A quick glance confirms the mischievous look on Root’s face.  
  
Before the Stock Exchange she would have been annoyed by that mischievous look. But that look, that the simulations couldn’t quite match, was one of the things she had focused on to survive the hell from the thousands of simulations Greer had forced her to endure. Now it was a source of strength and she almost felt sorry for anyone that tried to take it away from her. A beep in her ear brings her back to the present.  
  
 _“Root, are you and Ms. Shaw on the way?”_  
  
“We are Harry.” She glances at Sameen and squeezes her hand. “And we’re aware of the contracts?”  
  
 _“Good. Elias has put out the word that we are all under his protection, but…”_  
  
“As sizable as the contracts are and even with Elias’ influence, he isn’t going to be able to stop everyone.”  
  
 _“Unfortunately that’s already been proven true. There was an attempt on Mr. Reese and Detective Fusco. Both, fortunately, were unscathed.”_  
  
“And the attackers?”  
  
 _“Amateurs that are currently enjoying the hospitality of the NYPD jail.”_  
  
“This is exactly the chaos Greer wants. Our attentions turned toward our own survival rather than searching for him and Samaritan.”  
  
 _“I agree.”_  
  
“Anything on Bodil?”  
  
 _“She’s gone underground since your rather should we say heated disagreement.”_  
  
Root’s eyes are twinkling, “It was a rather,” as she smiles at Sameen, “impressive disagreement.” Both women bite off a laugh when they hear the clearing of Finch’s throat. With everything they had been through, it still came as a surprise to them how the violence they inflicted or had inflicted on them still created a squeamish reaction from Finch.  
  
“Anything else Harold?”  
  
 _“I know I’ve said it before, but please be careful.”_  
  
The only sound in the Jeep is the sound of the tires connecting with the pavement. Root turns slightly when Sameen takes a deep breath before beginning to speak. “Greer is going to continue raising the contract amount. So what if we make him think the contracts on us were fulfilled? Sorta.”  
  
“Sorta?” Sameen glances at Root and can see the multitude of possibilities racing through her brain. “We fake our deaths.”  
  
“Yeah. As for Lionel and Reese, their deaths would be too high profile to fake.”  
  
“True. The bigger problem is Greer. He’d suspect something was amiss if it was reported that we were killed in an explosion. He’ll want verifiable proof of death.”  
  
“Which means our bodies will have to be in a morgue for them to inspect.”  
  
Root’s fingers tap within the grasp of Sameen’s hand as she thinks about what would need to be done to fool whoever Greer sent and to keep them safe. “We’d also need to keep them from doing anything to us to make sure we’re really dead. As crazy as it sounds, this could work.”  
  
“Well crazy plans do seem to be our forte.”  
  
“That it does. And as long as you’re with me, the odds will always be in our favor.” Root’s eyes widen when the Jeep abruptly swerves off the road and comes to a stop on the shoulder. Before she can even move, Sameen leans closer until their faces are within inches of each other with no barriers or walls between them. And within the simple statement of, “I wouldn’t want it any other way,” is a promise not between colleagues, friends or soldiers fighting on the same side. This was a promise between souls that would and have walked through the fires of hell to find their other half. That where one goes the other will be right beside them. The kiss is an affirmation of the promises made and accepted.  
  
The air horn of a passing semi has both women smiling and chuckling as the kiss ends. “Guess that was a hint that we need to get going.” Root steals a quick kiss before Sameen moves back behind the steering wheel and puts the Jeep back on the road. They both get lost in thought as they speed towards the city and the renewed fight with Samaritan.  
  
✶✶✶  
  
Bodil’s instincts are screaming at her to not enter the building but she had to verify the information from the phone call. And if someone was pulling a joke on her, all of her frustrations from her encounter with Root and Shaw would be taken out on this unfortunate individual.  
  
She stops as a figure moves towards her from the darkness. And what she thinks she hears, “HaB,” has her shaking her head. “It’s not possible.”  
  
Out of the darkness steps a person she never thought she’d ever see again, her brother Hávarðr. “Hello Bodil.”  
  
“No, you’re dead. I saw your body. I touched your dead body.” She rubs her eyes hoping that its only dust in her eyes that are making the apparition of her brother appear before her. She opens her eyes only to find her very alive brother is standing before her.  
  
“You..”  
  
“No! I don’t know who you are but you are not my brother.”  
  
Hávarðr steps closer. “We lived in the Andersgrotta under Kirkenes. That’s where we meant Oleg. You were my protector, my best friend, my sister.”  
  
“Shut up.”  
  
He stops and studies his sister as the overwhelming desire to believe he’s alive is warring with the memories of his death. “HaB is the last thing I said to you when I left the apartment.”  
  
She removes a handkerchief from her pocket and stares at it before looking at him. She unfolds it, revealing the faded blood stain. “Do you know what this is?” Before he can answer, she continues. “This is your blood from the floor of the cafe.” The tears are streaming down her cheeks. “Every time I questioned what I was doing, it only took one look at this,” she holds the handkerchief up, “To remind me why I was searching for the person I held responsible for your death, Radicle.”  
  
“She had nothing to do with it.”  
  
Bodil starts laughing. “I know. She told me everything, but I didn’t believe her. I made her suffer, repeatedly, for killing you.” She steps closer to her brother, “I enjoyed hearing every anguished scream as her muscles contracted in pain every time I threw a punch. Because each punch was punishment for your death.” She steps even closer, “You went to the cafe because of her and died. She may not have pulled the trigger, but I still held her responsible for your death. And for that, she would die.”  
  
“Bodil…” One glare from her has him shutting up. “She’s not dead if that’s what you’re wondering.” Before he even realizes she’s moving, he’s pinned against the wall. “Do you have any idea what I’ve done, the people that I’ve hurt all in the name of avenging your death?”  
  
He doesn’t struggle against her grip. “I had no choice.”  
  
“Exactly why didn’t you have a choice?” Bodil’s eyes widen as she studies her brother’s features. She can see the anguish in his eyes over his decision but what shocks her is the fear that is readily apparent.  
  
“If I hadn’t, we’d both be dead.”

  
  
TBC  
  
  
  
  



	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3  
  
“You failed.” Bodil releases her brother and steps away from him. “I died that day when I saw your body in the morgue.” She remembers staring at Hávarðr’s lifeless body, of Oleg appearing next to her at the cafe. “Did Oleg know?” When there’s no answer, she turns to glare at her brother. “Did Oleg know you were faking your death?”  
  
“Not at first. He…” Hávarðr’s voice trails away from the combined anger and hurt he can feel radiating off his sister.  
  
“The two people I trusted most in the world,” and her next words battered him further with their intensity and their truth, “lied to me.”  
  
He starts to raise his hands, “I can explain…,” but one look from her has him lowering them.  
  
She steps closer to her brother. “Why? So you can lie to me again?” The pain his actions have caused are etched on her face. “Do you know what I went through?”  
  
This moment has been in the cards since the moment he had agreed to the proposal in the back of the ambulance. And if Bodil had been listening she would have heard the pain and regret in his, “Yes.”  
  
Her icy laughter sends a shiver through him. “No, you don’t. And do you know why?” She doesn’t give him time to answer before she’s angrily spitting out, “You knew you were alive. You knew I was alive. You knew Oleg was alive. Oleg knew you were alive. The Bodil you knew, no longer exists. And what you see before you,” She holds her arms out wide, “is what you, Oleg and whoever made the proposal created with this deception.”  
  
Hávarðr has finally had enough. He lets all of the pain he’s kept contained since the day he was shot to finally burst out. “You think that I have no idea what you went through. I had to live with the knowledge that I couldn’t talk to the one person that meant more to me than anyone else in this world.” He steps away from the wall. “That I couldn’t console her, that I couldn’t wipe away the tears, that I couldn’t be there for her.” He steps even closer. “I saw your tears in the morgue. I could feel your pain. I didn’t just lose my best friend, my protector…I lost my sister.” His eyes connect with Bodil’s so she can see the true cost he's paid for his decision, “So yeah, I do know what you went through.”  
  
He reaches out to touch her but she takes a step back. He was hoping that she would simply accept what happened and move on. But the human quotient is the one element you can’t truly plan for. He had watched from afar as Bodil had begun her campaign to find out the truth of his death. How she had found the discrepancy in the ambulance report, the EMT’s that had been reassigned immediately after his shooting and her discovering the picture of Radicle on a remote CCTV camera in Oslo.  
  
He had thought about how he was going to try and explain what happened numerous times but the actuality was far more emotional, for both of them, than he had expected. He takes a deep breath. “When I was in the ambulance, one of the EMT’s informed me that I was the target of the sniper. That, if I wanted both of us to survive, I had limited choices. I tried to argue that there had to be a better way to protect both of us. He leaned closer and said, _’If you care for your sister, you’ll accept the proposal.’_ So if you want to be mad at me, then be mad at me. But know this,” he takes a step forward, “I’d do it again if it meant saving your life.”  
  
Her hurt and anger is palpable when she snarls out, “So I’m just to forget everything and be ecstatic that you’re alive.”  
  
He shrugs, “I would hope you could, but in reality I know it’s not possible.” He studies the woman that is so vastly different from the sister he had known. There was a harder edge to her, a dangerous feeling that exuded from her like a shark waiting to pounce. He wants to wrap his arms around her and hold her tight but he knows she’d throw him across the room. And he’d deserve it. The woman that stands before him was created because of a unilateral decision he made to save them both.  
  
He had so much to tell her but now he had to wait until she was ready to, and he truly hoped she would, listen to the what and why everything happened. She needed to understand the hardest thing he had ever done was to walk away to save her life. That there had been times he had stood outside the building she was living in desperately wanting to run to her, to let her know he was alive, to be in the arms of his sister.  
  
For Bodil, her emotions were all over the spectrum. She was ecstatic that Hávarðr was alive. But she was enraged that he had been involved in faking his death, that he had failed to inform her he was alive. But what hurt the most was that he hadn’t trusted her enough to tell her of the threat against them. He hadn’t trusted in team BaH.  
  
She had never questioned the path, that she had so easily began, for avenging Hávarðr’s death until Radicle/Root began to tell her story. Even in the fog of her hatred for this woman, there was a small part of her that wanted to believe what she was hearing. But all it took was one look at the bloodstained handkerchief to make her return to her path of vengeance. And then…Shaw happened.  
  
Shaw, who admitted to shooting her brother and made Bodil realize that she had been after the wrong person all this time. And her question, _‘Greer wants to use Samaritan to manipulate and control the choices of every person in the world. Would your brother have wanted that?’_ Made her realize exactly how far off course she had gone in her blind determination to avenge her brother’s death. And that Radicle/Root had been right when she said _‘Greer is very astute at offering exactly the right motivation to add allies.’_  
  
Hávarðr can do nothing but watch as his sister assimilates everything she’s learned. There is far more that she needs to know but now is not the time. She had always been there for him. And now it was his turn to be there for her.  
  
✶✶✶  
  
Greer sits in his wheelchair watching the life blood of his God continue to work. There had been some minor issues with the program, due to Ms. Shaw’s bullets damaging the toolbox the backup had been in, but they had quickly been repaired. The technicians were waiting for the latest diagnostic before connecting more servers to Samaritan.  
  
One of his guards enters the room, “Sir?”  
  
“What have they found out about the explosion?”  
  
“It was an old munitions room below one of the batteries.”  
  
“Casualties?”  
  
“Bodil was tracked to a local doctor where she received treatment before disappearing. We’re still looking for her?”  
  
“At least she survived. Anything on Ms. Groves and Ms. Shaw?”  
  
“According to some hikers, they had encountered a badly injured woman and another woman. The second woman according to the hikers, who was dressed in all black, was covered in numerous cuts, nicks, streaked dirt and bullet holes in her vest, was down right terrifying.”  
  
Greer chuckles, “That is an apt description of Ms. Shaw.”  
  
The technician is baffled by the chuckle he hears from Greer. It’s not something he ever expected to hear. A raised eyebrow has him clearing his throat and continuing. “As far as the hikers knew, the two women left after the munitions exploded. We’ve been unable to locate them.”  
  
Greer taps his fingers against the arm rest of his wheelchair. “They do have a propensity of surviving against all odds. Anything else?”  
  
“We were able to remotely wipe the backup servers before the entire base was locked down.”  
  
“Excellent. Any news on the contracts?”  
  
“A failed attempt, but nothing else.”  
  
“The attempts, successful or not, should keep Mr. Finch and his associates busy. Bodil is a different matter.” He pauses to think of how Bodil might react with his decision to leave her behind. “I want all of the security enhanced. Everyone should know what Bodil looks like. No one gets on this base or leaves without our knowledge. There will not be a repeat of the previous security lapses. Is that understood?”  
  
“And if Bodil appears?”  
  
“Bring her to me.”  
  
“And if she resists?”  
  
As much as Greer would like to keep Bodil, she had been a very useful resource, he has to put the safety of Samaritan first. Her going rogue, just as she was needed the most, was a sign that her personal agenda was her primary concern, not Greer or more importantly not Samaritan. In Greer’s eyes this meant her usefulness had come to an end and she could no longer be trusted. “I’m sure you will know what to do.” The guard nods his head and exits the room.  
  
A technician approaches Greer. “Sir, we have an intermittent problem.”  
  
Greer stares at the technician, who nervously wipes his hands on his pants. “That is not the news that I wish to hear. Why hasn’t it been corrected?”  
  
“It keeps jumping from server to server. Like a ghost in the machine.”  
  
“Or a program left by Ms. Groves and The Machine. Has there been any attempt to make an outside connection?”  
  
“No. But…”  
  
Greer’s vexed, “What?” Is followed by his usual stony, get on with it, you’re wasting my time glare. The technician hurriedly continues, “If this intermittent problem is hiding and waiting, we could make it think that there is an outside connection.”  
  
“Explain.”  
  
“We could set up a bank of servers and spoof the outside connection.”  
  
Greer nods his head as he follows the technician’s train of thought. “Then we can manipulate whatever is there and use it against The Machine. Then make it happen. And as fast as possible.”  
  
“Yes, sir.”  
  
The technician quickly leaves Greer alone to ponder the irony of using one of The Machine’s own programs to track it down. The thought creates a smug look. One that if Shaw was in the room she would recognize from their encounter at the helicopter. A look that clearly stated that no obstacle, whether The Machine or its human components, will stop the inevitability that is Samaritan.  
  
He had learned from the previous encounters, as well as the unexpected setbacks, and had set in place even more rigorous security protocols. Still the one variable he couldn’t control was the human element. Once The Machine was defeated, the human element would no longer be a concern under Samaritan. But like the survivor he was, Greer had contingency plans in place to protect himself and more importantly to ensure that Samaritan survived at all costs.  
  
✶✶✶  
  
Lionel slaps a folder shut and sighs from the amount of paperwork that he and Reese have had to complete from the shooting. He swears it increases every year. And to make it worse, he wishes he could just make a copy of the initial report he filed and simply submit it rather than repeating the same information. His only enjoyment was watching Reese have to fill out the same forms as he was.  
  
“Feel bad about your day job as Detective Riley?” The only response from Reese is a grunt and a tilt of his head as Fusco continues, “Well I’m enjoying having you here to help rather than disappearing and leaving me to deal with the fall out from your exploits.”  
  
“But Lionel, you’ve become so good at it.”  
  
“That’s because you’re always leaving.” His computer pings. He clicks on the notice and frowns. “Our shooters are dead.”  
  
Reese puts down the folder he was reading and looks at Fusco. “Thought they were in the infirmary?”  
  
“They were, but a fight broke out and they were stabbed during the conflict. Think our friend had something to do with this?”  
  
“Harold wouldn’t…”  
  
Fusco rolls his eyes, “No our other friend.”  
  
“Maybe our two shooters just," Reese shrugs his shoulders, "tripped trying to get out of the way?”  
  
Fusco stares long and hard at Reese. “Sometimes I wonder why I continue to put up with you.”  
  
Reese smiles. “You’d miss me Lionel and our adventures.”  
  
Fusco snorts in laughter. “Adventures? Is that what you call them?”  
  
“Besides we still have a big adventure in our future.”  
  
He points at the file folders on both of their desks. “Yeah, you doing your fair share of the paperwork.”  
  
Reese taps the small pile on his desk. “Paperwork isn’t the best use of my skills.”  
  
“Ya think it’s mine.”  
  
“I’d think you’d be happy at your desk.”  
  
“What makes you think that?”  
  
Before Reese can answer, his phone rings, “Hello Shaw. Lionel and I were just talking about you.” Fusco is desperately making a shush motion. “We were just wondering,” he smiles at Lionel, who’s eyes are widening in fear, “when you and Root are due back.”  
  
Fusco glares at Reese as he ends the call. “Problem Lionel?”  
  
“I’m not talking to you.” Fusco shakes his head and resumes working on his reports trying to ignore his smirking partner.  
  
✶✶✶  
  
Finch hobbles into a room with a table and four chairs. “Elias?” He looks around and sees no one else.  
  
“Perfect timing Harold.” Elias enters the room holding two plates of chicken masala. He walks over to the table and sets both plates down before nodding towards a chair. “Please sit.”  
  
One thing Harold has learned about Elias, and it’s what keeps him alive, is that he moves on his timetable not anyone else’s. Harold sighs deeply before walking over and taking a seat. “Have you found someone willing to go along with the plan.”  
  
Elias laughs, “I may have the perfect person. In fact one of my men, now what did John call him?”  
  
“Spiderman?”  
  
Elias laughs and his, “John does have a unique sense of humor,” has Harold’s eyebrows rising. “Mr. Reese has his moments.”  
  
“He does indeed. ’Spiderman’ is bringing in a Claire Saunders.”  
  
“Not her real name I assume?”  
  
“No, it’s not. I’ve never had the need to use her services, but my sources say she is one of the very best.”  
  
Harold picks up a fork, “And yet you were able to find her.” He takes a small bite, intrigued by what Elias has cooked.  
  
Elias smiles at the enjoyment Harold is getting from his cooking. “My network of informants is vast and to most people unseen. As I believe yours is.”  
  
Before Harold can respond the door opens. ‘Spiderman’ enters followed by a seemingly composed Claire Saunders.  
  
She immediately recognizes Harold as being one of the newest contracts but doesn’t let that knowledge appear on her face. It’s the other man she has concerns about. And if he is who she thinks he is, her life is balancing on a knife edge that’s thinner than a hair.  
  
“Boss, she’s clean.” He steps back towards the door taking up a position as a guard just in case it's needed.  
  
Elias studies the woman. “I’m sure Ms. Saunders is far more deadly than she appears.” He waves his hand towards an empty chair. “Please forgive me Ms. Saunders for not offering you a seat.”  
  
As she walks over to the table, she can feel both men analyzing her. Her confidence is shaken at being discovered but she refuses to let the two men know how scared she truly feels at this moment. She knows there’s no need to try and pretend that she is nothing more than a lost tourist so instead she radiates a calm and cool exterior. Just what would be expected of a contract killer. Her gaze meets that of both men before she sits down across from Harold but looking at Elias. “Why am I here?”  
  
“We have a proposition for you.”  
  
Her gaze turns to Harold, “And why would I be interested in whatever you have to offer?”  
  
Elias chuckles, “It will give you the opportunity to retire…” He waits for Saunders to look at him before continuing, “permanently.” He smiles at the flicker of fear that races across her features at all the various meanings such a simple statement carries.  
  
She glances at Harold to find him watching her. And for the first time she’s wondering exactly what he has done to warrant a contract worth ten million dollars. For all appearances, he looks to be an unassuming college professor. In fact both men appear to be unassuming but she knows that is far from the truth. “If I refuse the proposition, after hearing it, what will happen to me?”  
  
“It would be better for you, if you accept.”  
  
“So if I refuse, I die.”  
  
“Oh no, Ms. Saunders we won’t. But your former clients, well they are another matter. Especially when they hear that Interpol has received verifiable information on a number of open cases that could be traced back to you and them. Countries will be lining up to interrogate and prosecute you.”  
  
“The file folder your man handed me.”  
  
Elias laughs, “That was only a small sample.”  
  
She studies both men. “You aren’t leaving me much choice.”  
  
Harold’s eyes widen behind his glasses. “Considering what we are facing, we had little recourse.”  
  
She sits back in her chair, resigned to the fact that the two men, sitting calmly, at the table hold her fate in their hands. “What’s the proposition?”  
  
Harold adjusts his glasses as he studies her. “We want you to fulfill the contracts.”  
  
Her eyes widen as the first thing that runs through her mind that this has to be some sort of joke. She leans forward as she looks from Harold, then to Elias and back to Harold. She’s had some weird requests on contracts, but this has to be one of the weirdest. And the surprise is evident in her voice when she says, “You want me to fulfill the contract on you?”  
  
She can hear the seriousness in Harold’s voice, “You miss understand Ms. Saunders. It’s not my contract that we wish you to fulfill.”  
  
Her eyebrows narrow in confusion. “Then who’s?”  
  
If she had thought this situation was odd with the way the contracts were issued and their amounts, it really spiraled out into the realm of confusion when Harold says, “Ms. Groves and Ms. Shaw.”  
  
  
  
TBC  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  



	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4  
  
If Claire thought everything that had happened was strange, Finch’s calm demeanor when he tells her he wants the contracts fulfilled on Groves and Shaw sent the situation spinning off into the realm of the weird. The utter disbelief is easily heard in her, “You want me to fulfill the contracts?”  
  
Finch’s eyes widen behind his glasses, “In a manner of speaking, that is exactly what we want.”   
  
Other than needing to know the movements of her contracts, Claire had no need or desire in getting involved in their history. She didn’t care who you were or what you had done. The only thing she cared about was the amount she earned from each successful contract.  
  
Now, not only was she meeting one of the contracts, she was being asked to actually fulfill the other contracts on people who seem to be their colleagues. If she gets out of this in one piece and alive, retirement is definitely her next step. “What exactly do you want from me?”  
  
“That Ms. Saunders is fairly simple. The man who issued the contracts, and from the amounts connected to these contracts, has made it abundantly clear that he will accept nothing less than our deaths. And that is what we need your help with.”  
  
Claire shakes her head, “You want me to kill them?”  
  
Elias chuckles, “Oh no Ms. Saunders, I have friends that can do that.”  
  
“If you don’t want me to kill them, then exactly what do you want from me?”  
  
“It’s very simple. We want you to contact the source and inform them that you have fulfilled those two particular contracts.”  
  
Claire sits back in her chair as she glances from Finch, who is sending a text on his phone, to Elias. “They want verifiable proof of death.”  
  
“We are aware…” Finch stops speaking when Claire raises her hand. “But if the man behind the contract is as adamant as you claim he is, he’ll want to personally verify their deaths.”  
  
“That is a possibility but highly unlikely due to his current physical condition.” Finch shifts slightly. “Though we expect that he will send his own people for verification.”  
  
“So you want to fake their deaths?”  
  
“Yes.”  
  
“And if they want to inspect their bodies?”  
  
Elias’ eyes crinkle, “I have people, who are, shall we say, gifted in making people believe what they are seeing is the truth.”  
  
Claire studies Elias and then Finch. They’ve left her with no options, if she wants to live, but to agree with this plan no matter how crazy it sounds.  
  
She takes a deep breath. “Are they on board with this plan?”  
  
Finch’s phone pings. He glances at the incoming text and nods to Elias before looking at Claire. “You can ask them yourself when they get here. But I’m sure they will agree once it’s been explained to them.”  
  
“You do realize that, whoever issued the contracts, suspects anything, we’re all dead.”  
  
Finch sits a little straighter, the sincerity and the truth is easily heard when he says “Ms. Saunders, if we fail, that will be the least of our worries.”  
  
✶✶✶  
  
“What did Finch want?”  
  
“A change in where we’re meeting him.” Root glances at Shaw, “How did you know it was Harold?”  
  
“Reese and Fusco have very little reason to text you and when they do, you get this little look of amusement over their simple ability in actually being able to text. And if it’s Finch, you get a little tense until you read the message.”  
  
She’s not surprised that Sameen had been categorizing the various nuances of everyone around her. “And how do I react if the message is from you?”  
  
Shaw rolls her eyes. “It’s not like we’re in the same room when I text you. But I’m sure I know how you’d react.”  
  
“Oh really.” She shifts in her seat so she’s turned more towards Sameen. “Didn’t know you were a psychologist Dr. Shaw?”  
  
A soft chuckle is followed by, “I see you’ve already forgotten that all I want you for, is your brain.”  
  
“Stop flirting and answer the question.”  
  
“Thought you liked flirting?”  
  
“Sameen.”  
  
“Root.” Shaw glances over to find the expected wide eyed mischievous look that Root often had when she was doing nothing more than watching her. She had grown accustomed to feeling it, and it was a comfort, until that fateful day in the stock exchange. The last thing she saw was an anguished, screaming Root as the elevator doors closed. If Finch and Fusco hadn’t pulled her away, Shaw was sure that Root would have ripped apart the metal cage to save her.  
  
From everything Shaw had garnered, since her return, that look had been replaced with one of determination and then utter soulful devastation when every search for Shaw, by Her and Root, had failed. “Before or after the stock exchange?”  
  
“Both.”  
  
Shaw taps her fingers on the steering wheel. “Before, any text you’d send would be flirty and filled with innuendoes. If I was sending the text, you’d get a surge of happiness for the simple fact I was either contacting you or responding to your text.”  
  
She’s ecstatic that even before they were together Sameen had been paying attention to her many nuances. “And after?”  
  
Shaw takes a deep breath before answering. “At first, fear that it was Greer or one of his minions sending you into a trap like the phone call that lead you to the hospital where they had been keeping me.” She looks at Root and sees the questioning look. “Finch told me what happened while you were busy writing code for the virus.”  
  
Root flashes back to running up the stairs in the hospital. Each step a combination of hope, determination, fear and desperation. She remembers the computer screen coming to life with the statement, _I failed to save Sameen_. Of rushing to a window in time to see Sameen being lead to a black van. “At least,” she pauses as she tries to rein in her emotions from that day, “I had confirmation that you were alive.”  
  
“You instilled more fear into Greer’s people than you realize.”  
  
“How?”  
  
“Every once in a while I’d hear the guards talking about how you stormed in with a take no prisoners attitude.” Shaw chuckles, “None of them ever wanted to face you unless they had a full marine division as backup support.”  
  
Just hearing Sameen’s chuckle lifts Root out of the funk she was falling into from reliving that day. “Just following my talents.”  
  
“And would that be your obstinate, opinionated, determined, writing a virus that should never have worked, WoR, fixated on me, annoying perky psycho or being an eeyore, talent?  
  
Root smirks at the varied descriptions Shaw has for many of her talents. “All of them.” Her eyes narrow in thought as she turns to study her other half, “Wait…WoR?” And all she gets is a shrug and simple statement of, “It’s an apt description.”  
  
“And it means…” When there’s no answer, she gives her best puppy dog look that gets her nothing more than Sameen shaking her head and chuckling. “Sweetie, what will it take for you to tell me what it means?”  
  
Unfortunately she can’t take full advantage of that comment. But that doesn’t mean she can’t tease. “What,” her heated gaze takes in all of Root, “are you offering?”  
  
Root smiles, “Unlimited teasing,” and returns the heated gaze,” of Reese and Lionel.”  
  
She chuckles as she shakes her head no. “Already got that.”  
  
Root taps her finger against her chin as she thinks. “Well we could make Harold think we’ve defiled his computer area.”  
  
Sameen laughs, “I can just imagine his eyes widening as he looks around trying not to think of everything we’ve done.” She stops laughing when one of Harold’s comments returns. “Though it would be poetic justice for questioning my ability in finding you a ring.”  
  
“He was only trying to help and your attempt at distracting me isn’t working.”  
  
Confused, Sameen turns to Root with a who me, I have no idea what you’re talking about look.  
  
“Don’t give me that look. You’re trying to avoid telling me what WoR means?”  
  
She shrugs her shoulders. “It was worth a shot. Three.” Shaw smirks as she can feel the cogs working desperately, in Root’s brain, trying to make every possible connection between what WoR could mean and three. She could simply tell her that three has nothing to do with WoR’s meaning but she’s enjoying the look on Root’s features. She gets this cute little scrunch in her forehead when she’s deep in thought.  
  
When she had awoken in the safe house, Root had been adamant that she needed rest and that meant staying in bed. She seemed to understand, without asking, that staying in bed brought back the memories of the restraints, drugs and simulations Greer’s minions had forced her to endure.  
  
But Root’s method quickly overwrote the bad memories with good ones. Whereas Greer used force and coercion, Root used concern and most of all love to help her heal.  
  
This forced confinement, that didn’t, to her surprise, feel confining gave Sameen a chance to observe the many sides of her mercurial hacker. What she saw made her respect for Root grow and solidified her true feelings.  
  
She watched as Root’s fingers flew over the keyboard typing in the characters that would help to bring about the downfall of Samaritan. And the more intense her concentration the deeper the scrunch in her forehead. The scrunch would disappear as soon as their eyes connected. But what she got in return, and it was worth losing the scrunch, was a Root with all of her protective walls gone. And a smile so brilliant, and for her only, that it had all of the bad memories scurrying in fear back into the deep recesses of the dark holes, and slamming the doors shut behind them, where they had come from.  
  
Shaw had only ever caught quick glimpses of this Root with no barriers between them but each time, she treasured it and burned it into her brain. This was the woman that, with the help of The Machine, Shaw had created the improbable plan to save her life. This was the woman that she had clung too to survive the multitude of Greer’s ruses and manipulations. This was the woman that had reached into her and hadn’t just peeled away the layer upon layer of duct tape that kept her emotions at bay, she had torn them asunder with a vengeance. This woman was her safe place.  
   
After she had escaped Greer’s clutches, she had found a brief respite in the back of a truck and a song had come over the radio. The words she had managed to hear had touched her the same way that the morse code of 4AF had when she heard it on the speaker. _In spite of the ache, I’ll rise up and I’ll do it a thousand times again, for you… All we need, all we need is hope, and for that we have each other._ Her determination to get back was strengthened by the thoughts of making Greer pay, by the words of the song, by the 4AF, by the need to get back to Finch, Reese, Fusco and Bear. But what drove her the hardest, what fortified her as she walked across the desert was the mere thought of getting back to her perky psycho. There was nothing human, animal or even what nature could throw at her that was going to stop her. And if anyone or anything tried, they would learn that an enraged Sameen Shaw was a force of nature that was far more dangerous and destructive than anything anyone had ever encountered. The only equal, though few would ever be able to make the comparison, was an equally enraged Root.  
  
While she was recovering, Reese and Finch had updated her on everything. They hesitated in discussing how dogged Root’s determination was to find her, but she knew. She would have been just as determined if it had been Root that had been taken.  
  
To their surprise, she had understood, why they gave up on the search for her. After all Finch had said, _“It’s going to be a long fight, but it must be won, at any cost.”_ And at that moment she was the cost.  
  
And Root being Root, well she refused to accept it, the cost was simply too high. And the resulting destruction she had wrought through Greer’s minions had instilled in them to fear the, “Wrath of Root.”  
  
The confusion on Root’s face was evident as she turned to look at Sameen. “What?”  
  
“You wanted to know what WoR meant.” The look on Root’s face was priceless and it caused the laughter, that still felt alien to Shaw, to burst forth. It was cathartic and cleansing and it was contagious.  
  
Through her laughter Shaw hears, “It’s an adequate description.”  
  
“Well Finch, and I’m sure it was highly censored, described what you and Reese did while trying to find me.”  
  
Still chuckling, Roots says, “As I said, it’s an adequate description. But you’re forgetting something.”  
  
Shaw turns the rearview mirror towards Root. “Look in the mirror.”  
  
“Why?”  
  
“Just do it.”  
  
Root shrugs and looks at herself in the mirror. “Now, think of me.” And what she sees is the sparkle in her eyes from the happiness of loving and being loved by Sameen Shaw. “That’s what you look like when I send you a text.”  
  
When they first got to the bungalow, Root was quiet but the circumstances were vastly different. She was trying to reconcile the loss of The Machine and what it meant to her. A truly speechless Root was a rare occurrence and something that Sameen treasured when she was the cause.  
  
A soft, “Don’t think I’ve forgotten that you still owe me an explanation for what three means,” has Shaw nodding. “I know.”  
  
Their game faces reappear when the dashboard screen lights up with a map of where they need to go to meet up with Finch. As much as they would like to leave the outside world to its own devices, that wasn’t going to happen any time soon. Duty called.  
  
✶✶✶  
  
Fusco pulls a sheet covered tray out of the open door of the refrigeration unit in the morgue. He pulls the sheet back and studies the body of one of the shooters from the ambush on him and Reese. “You ever think about what it will be like to be on one of these things?”  
  
Reese is studying the other shooter. “Can’t say that I have Lionel. But I’m sure there’s a free tray if you want to find out.”  
  
Fusco steps back, “Yeah, don’t think so.” He rubs his arms. “It always feels like you’re walking over someone’s grave in here.”  
  
“You come here often Lionel?”  
  
“No. Just saying it always feels the same.”  
  
Reese pushes the tray back into the drawer and closes the door. “Whoever killed them was a pro. They were quick and simple.”  
  
Fusco pushes the body of his shooter back into the drawer. “Same with mine.” He walks over to a sink and quickly washes his hands. “So now we wait for the next attempt?”  
  
The door to the morgue opens as an attendant pushes in a morgue gurney with a body bag on it. When he sees Fusco and Reese, one hand slides under the edge of the body bag, as he stops the forward momentum of the gurney. “Can I help you?”  
  
Fusco steps toward the attendant. “We’re looking for Mo?”   
  
“Yeah, he was transferred last week.”  
  
Before either man can move, Fusco has his weapon out and pointed at the attendant. Reese pulls his and levels it at the attendant.  
  
“Lionel?”  
  
“See I know that Mo works today and you are definitely not her. Now you wanna tell us who you really are?”  
  
A slightly movement from the body bag gives the fake attendant a brief window to escape. He shoves the gurney towards Reese and Fusco causing the gun that was hidden under the body bag to fall onto the floor. He darts out the door.   
  
Fusco grabs the gurney, “Go. I got this.” Reese follows the fake attendant while Fusco scrunches his face as he unzips the body bag. He sighs with relief when the bloodless features of his friend Mo are revealed. Eyes open slightly then slam shut and a slurred, “Lionel, what happened?”  
  
Fusco unzips the rest of the bag to find there no apparent injuries on his friend. “That’s what I was gonna ask you.”  
  
Reese walks back into the room and picks up the gun just as Lionel is helping the woman to sit up. He looks at Lionel and taps his ear to let him know he’s informed Finch of what’s happened. He checks the gun and finds the serial number has been burned off with acid. Definitely a pro.  
  
“Last thing I remember was the buzzer going off announcing an incoming body. Then a cloth was covering my face and I woke up here.” She looks at Reese. “Who’s he?”  
  
“That’s Detective Riley. Did you get him?”  
  
“No. He’s a pro though.”  
  
“A pro at what?” Neither Lionel or Reese answer her question but she refuses to be ignored and smacks Lionel in the arm.   
  
He rubs his arm and glares at her. “What was that for?”  
  
“For ignoring me. And I know we’re only casually dating but when you involve me then I have a right to know what’s going on. Especially if I can expect more visits from fake attendants.”  
  
Before Reese can say anything Fusco says, “Shut it John.”  
  
Reese steps toward Mo and extends his hand. “Detective John Riley. So how long have you and Lionel been dating?”  
  
Fusco rolls his eyes, “You might as well answer. He’ll keep asking until you do.”  
  
She shakes John’s hand. “Mo Addams. Off and on for the past three months. Though I haven’t heard from him for awhile.” She looks from John to Lionel. “Now which one of you is going to tell me what is going on?”  
  
“It’s better if you don’t know.”  
  
“Really? Well I’m assuming you don’t want a report filed so either tell me or…” She doesn’t need to finish the statement for them to understand what she wants.  
  
Reese turns to Fusco, one eyebrow rising. “Lionel, I like her.”  
  
Fusco is rolling his eyes at Reese. “I’m glad I have your approval.”  
  
“Excuse me.” Both men turn to Mo. “Now what is going on?”  
  
Lionel points at the wall refrigeration unit. “Two of the men in there are the ones that ambush us. They were knifed in the infirmary and we were trying to find out who was behind the knifing.”  
  
“Why not the ambush?” Neither man answers her question. “So from your silence, you know who’s behind the ambush.” She holds up her hand to stop them from answering. “Now I have two questions. One, should I be expecting any other visits from fake attendants?”  
  
“Not from the one that just left.”  
  
Mo carefully gets off the gurney. “Two, why didn’t he just put me in one of the drawers? No one would have found me for awhile.”  
  
“Probably was his original idea, but with us already here, he had to quickly adapt his plan.”  
  
“Then I’m glad you were here.” She takes an unsteady step that has Lionel grabbing her arm. “Just promise me that if either of you get ambushed again, let me know so that I can be prepared for unexpected visitors.”  
  
“Yeah we can do that. But hopefully we won’t need to call you.”  
  
“Good, now get out of my morgue.” Fusco and Reese start towards the door when Mo says, ”Lionel?”  
  
Fusco turns, “Yeah?”  
  
“Call me later.”  
  
Fusco nods before Mo turns and walks little unsteady towards her office in the rear of the morgue leaving a smiling Reese standing next to Fusco. “Lionel.”  
  
“Don’t say a word.” He glances at Reese, “Especially to Shaw. I’ll never hear the end of it from her.”  
  
Reese raises an eyebrow and exits the room with Lionel following. “That also means no telling Root who will tell Shaw. Or Finch. Not even Bear.”  
  
✶✶✶  
  
Bodil stares out a window trying to reconcile all the new information with what she thought she knew. What she knew, beyond a shadow of doubt, was that Shaw had shot her brother and Greer had doctored the files she had read. As for Root, if she hadn’t agreed to meet her brother he wouldn’t have been shot. But as much as she wants to continue to lay the blame on Root, the truth is now apparent, someone knew about the meeting or Shaw wouldn’t have been sent to shoot him.  
  
Her eyes narrow in thought. Shaw had said shoot not kill. Had her orders been to only wound him or did the interference of the second shooter cause her to miss. But as highly trained and successful as Shaw was, it was highly unlikely that if she had truly missed, she would have fired a second shot at her brother. And yet she didn’t.  
  
“What was the specific threat against us?  
  
Startled by the sudden question, Hávarðr pauses before answering. “I don’t know. Only that we’d both be dead if I didn’t accept their proposal.”  
  
“Did you make sure I found the picture of Radicle?”  
  
He’s not surprised by the sudden shift of topics by Bodil. It was her way of allowing her subconscious to work on a problem while she concentrated on something completely different. “No. I was as surprised as you were. Radicle was very good at covering her tracks.”  
  
“She goes by Root.” The last thing she had expected to hear, and yet it was also comforting, was Hávarðr’s laugh. “What’s so funny?”  
  
“You don’t know what a Radicle is?” She shakes her head no. “It’s the part of the plant embryo that develops into the primary root.”  
  
“Explains why I had such a hard time finding anything on her whereabouts.”  
  
“You have no idea how talented she is when it comes to hiding her digital tracks or writing code.”  
  
Bodil studies her brother and can easily see the respect he has for Root’s talents. “Is she better than you?”  
  
Hávarðr relaxes as the ease of their banter that is slowly returning. He knows it will take her awhile to forgive him for the unilateral decision he had made to save both their lives. But once she learned what he knew, she’d truly understand why he did it. “Before all of this, I would have said no. While I was recuperating, I had a chance to study the code she had used to entice me. I thought I was being clever by making slight adjustments to her code and by telling her she was in a cafe in Oslo and not London.”  
  
“And?”  
  
“She knew exactly what she was doing. She had deliberately written the code so that only I could make the corrections.” He shakes his head at the memory, “I don’t think she’s even scratched the surface of everything she’s capable of creating.”  
  
“Or destroying.”  
  
He knows exactly what she’s talking about. He had been one of the many hackers and coders that had joined in to help with the virus. But the idea and implementation, that was all Root. “The virus was an inspired piece of code.”  
  
Bodil chuckles. “It made Greer paranoid about any electronics that come anywhere near the servers.”  
  
“Understandable.” He nods towards the bruises on her face. “Did Root give you those?”  
  
She touches her cheek, “No. Shaw happened.”  
  
“Shaw?”  
  
“She’s the one that shot you and someone I have a few questions for.”  
  
“Such as?”  
  
“Were her orders to kill or just shoot you? The problem will be getting her to listen without killing me.”  
  
Hávarðr steps closer to her. “Why would she want to kill you?”  
  
“Because I hurt someone she cares deeply about.”  
  
Somehow he knows exactly who she hurt but he still asks, “Who?”  
  
She turns away from Hávarðr and looks out the window. And in a voice that reflects her regret at the punishment she had meted out, she says, “Root.”  
  
  
  
TBC


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5  
  
The Jeep pulls to a stop in the underground parking area of a seemingly derelict building. Sameen looks around at the interior and shakes her head. The only person they had seen was one of Elias’ men that had waved them through to the lower section of the parking garage. “Why am I not surprised this is where we’re meeting Finch and Elias?”  
  
Root chuckles as she glances around. “Sweetie, you of all people should know looks can be deceiving.” She turns to Sameen. “I mean look at us.”  
  
And that is exactly what Sameen does. Her gaze slides up long legs that never seem to end, to a chest that is breathing deeper as well as faster. Her heated gaze then slides sideways to take in the long slender fingers that can cause the greatest of pain or the greatest joy and sometimes, to her eternal enjoyment, at the same time. Her eyes fasten on the ring that is so much more than a promise, it personifies what Root truly is to her, her heart.  
  
Slowly her eyes lift until they’re meeting the glistening brown orbs that have saved her more times than she cares to or has admitted to Root. She leans closer, watching as those same brown orbs dart from her lips to her eyes.  
  
The tip of Root’s tongue slips out to moisten her suddenly dry lips. But those maddening lips that she desperately wants to feel stop just short of touching hers. She shivers with every caress from the small puffs of air as Sameen exhales and can feel the corresponding shudder when her own exhale makes contact with Sameen’s lips.  
  
She wants to pull her fiery lover into the back of the Jeep and forget about the outside world as she relearns everything about her other half. Oh how she wants to feel those lips, of her hands sliding over clothes before roughly pushing them aside. To feel every inch of Sameen’s soft skin underneath her hands and against her own bare skin. To feel those powerful muscles coiling before unleashing against her as they ride out their mutual orgasms. Then do it all again, repeatedly.  
  
A soft purred, “Root,” that always seems to make her insides shudder with excitement, forces her eyes upward until they meet Sameen’s own darkened gaze. “One of my favorite activities,” she licks her lips, “is watching you…”  
  
Before Sameen can finish her sentence, Root’s lips are claiming hers in a desperate need to feel the connection that is always simmering just below the surface. She can feel the shudder as the coolness of her ring slides over Sameen’s heated skin as her fingers slide into silky hair, pulling her other half deeper into the kiss.  
  
Somehow, though neither could remember doing it, their seat belts had come undone and Sameen was now straddling Root. They both give and take in the exchange of relearning the soft flesh beneath their lips.  
  
Unfortunately for them, this was neither the time nor the place for them to explore the back of the Jeep or each other. That would have to wait for another day. Reluctantly they end the kiss, their eyes silently communicating that this is only a temporary break. Their foreheads come to rest against each other as they try to bring their breathing under control.  A breathy, “Sameen.”  
  
“Root.”  
  
To anyone listening it would seem that they were just calling each other by their names and they were. But for them it had a far greater and deeper meaning. It was an acknowledgement that where one went, the other would follow; that you are my other half; blood for blood. But most of all, at this moment, it was their own way of saying I love you.  
  
Knuckles knocking on the hood of the Jeep has Root closing her eyes and softly growling in frustration. She can feel the chuckle reverberating through Sameen. One eye opens, “What’s so funny?” The amusement of the situation brings out the smallest of smiles that Sameen reserves only for Root. The smile brightens her face and puts a twinkle in her eyes. “I’m usually the one snarling at whoever’s interrupting us.”  
  
A pouting, “It’s your fault,” almost has Sameen erupting in laughter at the cuteness. Though she would never tell Root that or at least not when there were other people around. Later she’d remind her about being cute and then show Root exactly how cute she is, time and time again.  
  
“Oh really? I was simply doing what you asked.” Usually it was Root staring at Shaw with various looks of hope, longing and adoration. But now it was Shaw watching her. So yes, she was having fun at turning the tables on Root. “I could stop.”  
  
Both of Root’s eyes widen, her fingers tighten in Sameen’s hair at the mere thought of not feeling loving eyes on her, “Don’t you dare stop.”  
  
Another knock on the Jeep, has them reluctantly separating, but not before another quick kiss. They exit the vehicle, on Root’s side and quickly readjust their clothes and hair. They find ‘Spiderman’, who is standing at the front of the Jeep with his back towards them, waiting. He glances at Root and then Shaw gratified to see them in a far better condition than the last time he had been in their presence.  
  
He nods to them before walking over to a rusty, paint flaking door and, despite its appearance it swings inward without making a sound. “They’re waiting for you.” He waits for them to walk through the opening, a brief smile flashes across his features over his amusement of what he had interrupted, before closing the door.  
  
✶✶✶  
  
Finch turns as a door opens admitting Shaw, Root and ‘Spiderman’ into the room. He takes the time to study them and is pleased to see they are well on their way to recovering from the latest encounter with Greer and Bodil.  
  
There had been so many injuries and deaths in this fight against Samaritan but John’s no nonsense description of what had occurred on the base and their current injuries terrified him. If he hadn’t been sitting down, he would have toppled over when John told him of Shaw firing at the helicopter, then her running with bullets churning up the ground behind her as she raced for cover, of pulling her from the collapsed dirt sides of a draw where she had dove into to protect herself.  
  
And if learning of Shaw’s exploits wasn’t bad enough, his description of the beating Root had endured after her encounter with Bodil made him wonder, not for the first time, how long they could keep absorbing this amount of punishment before failing.  
  
He had almost sent private medical aid until John had informed him that both women had been checked out by a technician with a portable x-ray machine courtesy of Elias. As well as a robust first aid kit that had almost everything a good field surgeon would need. Besides Shaw would never have let anyone near her or Root.  
  
He had once told Root that he wanted to hold out hope but hope was painful and it was. But without hope, they might as well give up now and let Samaritan win. It was Root’s justification for planning to kill Elizabeth Bridges, “ _Win some, lose some. It’s all for a good cause,”_ that finally forced him to realize just because something is for a good cause does not make it acceptable. It was that epiphany that had him promising to do everything in his power to put an end to Samaritan and Greer once and for all.  
  
Shaw glances around taking in the relaxed poses of Elias and Harold. Well as relaxed as Harold ever looked. Subconsciously she steps forward and to one side placing herself slightly in front of Root as her eyes lock on Claire. She doesn’t need to be told exactly who this woman is. But the question is why is she here? Her tension lessens a degree when soothing fingers brush against her lower back. And a whispered, “Sameen,” helps to ease the tension further.  
  
Elias smiles as they approach the table. “Ms. Shaw, Ms. Groves, it’s good to see you again.”  
  
“Elias. Harold.” Shaw nods towards Claire, “Who’s she? And what’s she doing here?”  
  
Elias smiles at Claire Saunders that has her squirming slightly in her seat. “The name she currently goes by is Claire Saunders and I’m sure you know exactly what she is. As for why she’s here, she’s shall we say…a guest of mine.”  
  
Claire’s eye’s flicker at the mention of being a guest. Like she was given much of a choice about being here. She glances at Shaw and sees a slight twitch in one eye that means Shaw knows she’s not here by choice. But when both eyes slightly narrow it’s a clear warning to her, mess with anyone in this room and there won’t be anything left of her.  
  
A nervous Harold shifts in his seat as the tension from the staring contest between Shaw and Claire can be felt. “Considering her expertise, we’ve asked her to be part of a plan to…”  
  
“…Fake our deaths.” Everyone except Shaw looks at Root. She shrugs her shoulders, “It’s the only logical conclusion. And if it works we may be able to draw out Greer.”  
  
“He’d want to know for sure that we were dead.”  
  
“There are some other problems. How to keep whoever Greer sends from doing any kind of tests or worse.”  
  
“Like shooting us or blowing us up to ensure that we’re really dead.”  
  
“Sameen.”  
  
Shaw glares over her shoulder at Root. “You know as well as I do Root, that Greer isn’t going to blindly trust that we’re dead. He has no qualms about doing whatever he needs to do and that includes desecrating a dead body.”  
  
A gasp has everyone looking at Claire, who is leaning forward with her hands on the table. Her eyes are wide open staring at Root. Standing before her is a legend and a ghost. “You’re Root?” In the shadowy circles Claire walked in, the name Root was talked about in hushed tones, with awe and envy. Her many exploits, though some refused to believe that every job that had been credited to her was done by one person, were legendary. And until this moment, no one even knew that Root was a woman.  
  
Now the last thing anyone in the room expected to hear was a chuckle from Sameen. “Seems you have a groupie Root.”  
  
Root steps closer until her lips are right next to Shaw’s ear. She whispers so softly that only Sameen can hear her, “Sweetie, you’re the only groupie I’ll ever want, need or desire in my life.” And the elbow she feels coming to rest against her stomach is expected but there’s no force behind the blow.  
  
Elias can’t help himself but be amused by the interactions of the two women. They were as different as night and day and yet they complemented and completed each other in a way that most people can only dream of.  
  
His boyhood friends Anthony Marconi and Bruce Moran were his best friends and they complemented each others strengths and weaknesses. But what Root and Shaw had, went far deeper. Separately, they were talented and strong, but the deep connection they now have…well it was something that he could only wish to have with someone.  
  
Whatever Root had whispered made the tension in Shaw’s body ease. But enough remained to keep the others away. A slight glint draws his eyes to the ring residing on Root’s left hand. It seems the packages he had delivered to the bungalow had born fruit and now he truly understood why Root had laid a path of destruction through Greer’s forces. It wasn’t to find a friend or a colleague or an ally. It was to find something far more personal, something far greater and more important, it was to find her other half.  
  
Harold’s clearing of his throat draws everyones attention. “If we may get back to discussing what needs to be done.”  
  
“Sorry Harry.”  
  
“As I was saying, there are some parts of the plan that need to be worked out.”  
  
“And her role?” Shaw nods toward Claire.  
  
“She’s going to contract the intermediary to claim fulfillment of the contracts.”  
  
Two sets of eyes pin Claire to her seat. ‘Spiderman’ and Elias were threatening in their own way but the stares she was getting now, had her wishing she could change her clothes from the sweat that has erupted all over her body. She clears her throat hoping her voice sounds strong with Shaw and Root staring at her. “A morgue would work. It would allow you to control who enters as well as contain any outside interference.”  
  
Root doesn’t outwardly respond to the stiffening of Sameen’s muscles but knows that something has set her on edge. To her surprise she feels fingers touching hers. It was as if she was needing to reaffirm that Root was here with her. She steps closer letting their bodies touch and can feel Sameen relaxing slightly. When they’re alone, she’ll ask what was wrong.  
  
“We can make them up to appear dead, but…”  
  
“Tetrodotoxin.” Came not from Shaw but Root.  
  
Before she can stop herself, Claire bursts out, “You want to use pufferfish to fake your death? Are you nuts?”  
  
Shaw nudges Root, “And here I thought she didn’t know you.” Root shrugs and bumps shoulders with Shaw, who shakes her head at her perky psycho who is finally returning. And truthfully she had missed this part.  
  
“If you know how to handle it and have the datura stramonium leaf antidote ready, it can be used.” She stares at Claire daring her to say something. “Unless you have a better idea?”  
  
“The whispers about you are true. You will do anything to fulfill a contract.”  
  
Root’s smile is both threatening and condescending. “You have no idea what I’m capable of. And these people,” she indicates Shaw, Harold, Elias and even ‘Spiderman’, who is standing quietly near the door they had entered, “are more than my colleagues and friends. They are my family and you do whatever needs to be done to protect your family.”  
  
Even though Shaw knew, was involved in or was the cause of many of Root’s action, she had never heard this side of her. To say she was impressed by the appearance of this steely determination was an understatement. In fact she found it kinda hot.  
  
Claire’s eyes flicker around the room and realizes that her life is once again hanging in the balance. She makes a quick decision, not like she really had any choice, “Then I guess it’s a good thing you have experience using pufferfish.” She turns to Harold, “What do you want me to do?”  
  
“Boss?” Comes from near the doorway as ‘Spiderman’ steps forward. “The warehouse with the electronics.”  
  
“What about it?”  
  
“Seems that there are still a number of people interested in those electronics. We could rig up an explosion that appears to catch the ladies in its blast.”  
  
Shaw looks at ‘Spiderman’ thinking of the possibilities of his idea. It was far better than dealing with a poison that handled incorrectly could easily kill the patient. And that was not a situation she was willing to put either Root or herself in unless absolutely necessary. “The rubble could bury the majority of our bodies.” Root adds in “And by altering the video, we can show her shooting us. Could keep Greer or his lackeys from trying anything on our bodies.”  
  
“Blanks should suffice to make it appear that I truly am shooting you.”  
  
Shaw turns to Claire. “I’ll load the weapon. We wouldn’t want any accidental misloads or discharges.”  
  
Claire refuses to drop her gaze. “If that happened, we all know I wouldn’t ever enjoy the money much less make it out of the building alive.”  
  
“So true.” She looks to Elias, do you have a layout of the building?”  
  
“Yes.”  
  
Shaw turns to Root and arches an eyebrow that gets her a shy smile and a nod. Satisfied she turns to Claire, “Are you waiting for an invite?” Surprised Claire jumps to her feet and joins Shaw as they walk over to ‘Spiderman’.  
  
“Root?” She turns and walks over to Harold. “It’s good to see you getting back to normal.”  
  
She tilts her head to one side as she studies him, “Harry, You of all people should know I’ve never been normal. And personally,” she glances towards Shaw, who is deep in a discussion with ’Spiderman’ and Claire, “I wouldn’t want it any other way.”  
  
His eyes drop down to where Root’s thumb is twisting a ring on her finger. “I see that my offer to help Ms. Shaw find a ring is no longer needed. Did you..?” Harold had seen a wide range of moods and expressions but what he saw now is something he never thought he’d ever see considering Root’s history.  An almost shy, blushing woman, who was so deeply in love it could be felt. “No,” she glances toward Sameen, ”she did.”  
  
Feeling eyes on her, Shaw turns to find Root looking at her. She can feel her blush, so she knows that Finch has seen the ring. Her eyes shift to him and he nods. Satisfied that he knows she didn’t need his help in picking out a ring, she resumes the conversation of what’s needed to pull off the explosion and their fake deaths.  
  
Elias walks over, glancing at the ring. “May I.” She lifts her hand until he takes it and studies the ring. “She chose,” he looks up, “well.”  
  
She smiles, “We both did.”  
  
Elias nods his head in understanding. “It’s a rare thing what you and Ms. Shaw have. Enjoy it. Nourish it. Cherish it. And most of all, fight for it.” He knows that they’ve already proven time and time again just how far both women were willing to go to find and protect each other. So he accepts her adamant, “We will,” as nothing but the absolute truth. He releases her hand, “So how may I help plan your death?”  
  
✶✶✶  
  
Greer wheels into the server room not happy that the technicians haven’t been able to rectify the situation with the program left by The Machine. Every attempt to capture it in a secured server has failed. Even with the spoofing of an outside connection, the technicians haven’t been able to catch the elusive program. It was almost as if the program knew what they were doing or his eyes narrow at the implications that there was a mole. Bodil’s expertise would be handy at ferreting out the mole but she was still incommunicado.  
  
Worse, they had yet to determine what the elusive program’s actual function was. It appears to do nothing other than causing the technicians to waste time trying to eliminate it. But Greer had learned from the seemingly innocent programs on Finch’s laptop, that Root had activated when she had typed in the activation code, that appearances can be deceiving. The security measures he had implemented were designed to protect Samaritan until the A.I. was ready to be unleashed onto the world. And anyone found violating these measures, well they would only do it once.  
  
The technician hesitantly approaches. “Sir.”  
  
“Have you been able to contain the program? “  
  
“Yes.” Greer smiles.  
  
The technician looks around and doesn’t see Bodil. He knows Greer will not be happy with, “And no.” Greer rolls closer, “No, is not what I wish to hear. Exactly why have you not contained it?”  
  
“As you know, it’s been jumping from server to server.”  
  
Greer almost snarls, “Why are you wasting my time by telling me what I already know? Now would you care to explain why haven’t you eliminated this program? Or do I need Bodil to pay you a visit?”  
  
He blanches at the mere thought of Bodil, “We…we think it’s a self-replicating program.”  
  
“A what?”  
  
“What we believe is happening is that the program only exists for a predetermined amount of time and erases itself. But it leaves a dormant command code behind to restart and then replicate after a certain amount of time.”  
  
Greer stares at the servers. “That is not good news.” If what the technician says is true, they may never catch this program. And worse, if the program has attached and hidden itself in Samaritan’s core programming, it could compromise every copy of this version. Their only recourse would be to use the backup version of this backup. The problem, that backup is in a secure locker underneath all of the rubble where the original compound once stood and still under strict security.  
  
The technician’s, “Actually it is.” Brings Greer back to the present. “Exactly how is this good news?”  
  
“It will require a complete shutdown of the servers until we are able isolate each one. Then when the servers are turned back on, we can monitor which server is infected.”  
  
Finally some good news almost has Greer smiling. “Then we have The Machine’s program. Good. Very good. Use what ever resources you need and do it as quickly as possible.”  
  
The technician nods and hurries off as a guard approaches Greer. “Any news?”  
  
“Another failed attempt. There still has been no contact from Bodil.”  
  
“Hmmm. That is a situation we need to rectify. Take me outside.” The guard begins to push the wheelchair as Greer takes out his phone. At the door the sound of the servers being shutdown draws his attention and he fails to notice the red light flashing quickly on his phone.  
  
As Greer emerges from the server room, he makes a call. “Bodil, I have information on the location of the Butcher.” He ends the call. “Now we see if she’s still interested.” The red light stays on as he is wheeled down the hallway.  
  
✶✶✶  
  
Hávarðr’s phone vibrates in his pocket. A frown mars his features as he reads the text on the display. He glances at the rigid back of his sister and knows she is isn’t going to like what he has to tell her. As much as he wants to stay to answer the many questions she must still have, his timetable has just been pushed up.  
  
“Bodil?”  
  
“What?”  
  
“I have to go…” He takes a step back when she turns an accusatory glare at him. “Why am I not surprised. Go.”  
  
Instead of leaving he takes a step towards her. “I can’t answer all your questions now but if you come with me, I can show you what I’ve been doing.”  
  
“Have you cleared this with your new friends?”  
  
“They wouldn’t have let me contact you if they weren’t okay with you knowing I was alive.”  
  
She studies her brother and can easily see that he isn’t lying. “Answer one question and then I’ll go with you.”  
  
“Alright?”  
  
“Was faking your death worth all the pain?”  
  
He was expecting a great number of questions but not this particular one. As much as he would like and he’s sure Bodil is expecting him to say no, he says, “Yes.” He holds up a hand to stop her from talking, “And I would do it again, given the same circumstances. Except getting shot.” He walks up to her. “Do I wish I could have told you I was alive, yes. Do I wish you could have been by my side, yes.”  
  
“After all this time, why did you reveal yourself now?”  
  
“Because it’s time for you to know the truth. And I don’t mean the truth according to Oleg and especially not Greer.”  
  
She snorts in amusement. “Greer is exactly as Oleg described him, except older. His arrogance is even more astounding.” She steps closer to her brother, “We’re not done with why you made the choice you did.”  
  
Hávarðr’s laugh is both unexpected and yet comforting. “I would have been shocked if you had let it go. But we will discuss it and then you’ll understand why.”  
  
She shakes her head, “It must be something special.”  
  
The smile on his face, and one she thought she’d never see again, reminds her of when they were children. The enjoyment of each new discovery that challenged their minds. “It’s everything and beyond anything I’d ever expected.”  
  
TBC


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 6  
  
✶✶✶  
  
Lionel flattens himself against the wall as heavy objects slam into the door he had just been standing in front of. “Are you kidding me?” The muffled voices of at least two people can be heard arguing through the door.  
  
“I’m sure it’s just a,” John shrugs his shoulders, “misunderstanding.”  
  
He glares at Reese. “Really? Exactly how is Police, open up, a misunderstanding?” He involuntarily flinches when more objects slam into the door. “If this keeps up, I’m going to need a vacation.”  
  
John smirks at the thought of Lionel leaving the New York area voluntarily, “And where would you go Lionel?”  
  
“Somewhere far away.”  
  
Both men flinch as more objects slam into the door and the wall. “You’d miss me.”  
  
Fusco smirks, “Yeah I’d miss being around a bullet magnet?”  
  
“It’s a hazard of the job.” A teasing smile quirks Reese’s lips. “Besides I’m sure your Doctor friend Mo would have no problem giving you bedside attention to any injuries you might have.”  
  
He glares at Reese, who doesn’t react. “You’re just not gonna let that go.”  
  
Reese shrugs and ignores Fusco’s glare. After all he had been on the receiving end of a Shaw glare and no one can beat one of those. “Would you?”  
  
Another large object slams into the door causing the lock to pop and the door creaks open. Reese uses his foot to push the door further open and then jerks back when an empty liquor bottle flies through the door and shatters against the far wall.  
  
A scream of pain and a thump from inside of the apartment has Reese kicking the door open to find a man holding one arm to his chest. Standing over him is a woman with a frying pan in her hand.  
  
“Police. Move away from him.”  
  
The woman glares at Fusco and Reese, then drops the frying pan on top of the prone man. He screams in pain as his nose spews blood. “Man, yoos broke my nose.” The woman smirks as she takes a step back. “You lucky that’s all I broke. Could have been, she glances down at his groin, “something I wouldn’t miss.”  
  
The man looks to Fusco and Reese. “Yoos really cops?”  
  
Both men roll their eyes. Fusco shakes his head. “No, we’re the delivery men. Want to explain what’s going on?”  
  
“She tried to kill me.”  
  
Reese and Fusco look at the woman as she snorts in amusement. “Not worth the effort.”  
  
“So what’d he do?”  
  
“Hey, why you…”  
  
Fusco and Reese both say, “Shut up.”  
  
“Sneaking in after being with her.” Reese steps forward and blocks her as she takes a step to kick him. “He’s not worth it.”  
  
“What the…”  
  
“Shut up.”  
  
“No. She attacked me.”  
  
Fusco looks at the man. “So you want us to arrest her?”  
  
“Yeah.”  
  
Reese takes out his handcuffs and to his surprise she puts her hands out before he can ask her to. “Good.” After her cuffs her, she steps towards the door laughing, “ It’ll save me from doing something I might not regret.” Reese shrugs and follows her out into the hallway.  
  
Fusco reaches out to help the man stand. “Lets go.”  
  
“Go where? Yoos arresting me?”  
  
Fusco rolls his eyes, “No, but you need to come to the station to file charges.”  
  
The man’s eyes widen at the thought of having to go to the police station. “Why’d I wanna do that?”  
  
“You asked us to arrest her and we are, so lets go.”  
  
The man steps backwards, shaking his head. “I ain’t going with you.”  
  
Fusco steps back trying to avoid the spray of blood as the man continues to shake his head. “Fine. She’ll be released tomorrow so if I was you I’d be gone before she gets home.” He removes a handkerchief and wipes away some of the blood that has landed on his hands.  
  
The man nods as Fusco shakes his head in dismay as he exits the apartment still wiping his hands. He finds Reese and the woman waiting for him in the hallway. “He’s not pressing charges…”  
  
She shakes her head, “Not surprised.”  
  
Reese studies the woman. “He’s done this before?”  
  
She looks at Reese and snorts in amusement. “Yep. He’ll be begging me to take him back by the end of the week.”  
  
“Why do you take him back?”  
  
She looks from Fusco to Reese and shrugs her shoulders, “Temporary insanity.” All the two detectives can do is shake their heads as they follow her out of the building.  
  
✶✶✶  
  
’Spiderman’, Claire and Shaw are still discussing various issues dealing with the old warehouse when Elias approaches the trio. Rather than intervening, he does what has served him well in the past, he simply listens and absorbs everything that is being discussed or debated.  
  
“Do you have a favored form?”  
  
Claire blinks at the sudden change in topic. “What?”  
  
Shaw wants to roll her eyes at this so called professional. She can feel Root’s smirk from the other side of the room and fights the impulse to look over at the former hacker. “Let me guess,” she studies Claire, “you’ve only used a small caliber revolver for use in a crowd. You rarely deviate from your plan even if a better and far easier opportunity arises.”  
  
“Lucky guess.”  
  
“You’re also the type that avoids the contracts that require a shall we say statement kill. You prefer the clean,” Shaw slowly steps close, “easy kills.”  
  
Claire’s shoulders tighten in anger from the condemnation that everyone can plainly hear in Shaw’s voice. How dare this woman pass judgement without knowing what she is capable of and has done. She tries to keep her voice strong, steady when she says, “You know nothing about me?” but there is a small warble in her voice. And from Shaw’s smirk she knows it’s been heard.  
  
Not for the first time since meeting Claire, Shaw has to wonder how this woman had been successful at being a hired killer. Rather than answering her question, She turns to the plans and sketches out a quick design of where the explosives should be located to create the illusion of a devastating explosion. “Her lack of expertise,” Shaw turns to ’Spiderman’, “will help explain why the explosion didn’t kill us.”  
  
“Yeah. A novice far outside their depth.”  
  
“True.”  
  
“Excuse me.” Shaw and ’Spiderman’ continue to talk ignoring Claire. “Which if Greer’s men were to check, her lack of expertise works in our favor.”  
  
“And that would account for using less explosives. Though...”  
  
“They might be expecting her to use a far greater amount than was truly needed.”  
  
 “Yeah, but that could take down the whole building “  
  
“And burying the bodies under too much debris.”  
  
 “Which means she wouldn’t be able to collect on the contract.”  
  
Claire’s hand connecting with the table and her, “Stop talking like I’m not here,” stops all movement and discussion in the room. She glares at Shaw, who simply arches an eyebrow and waits for any other reactions from Claire.  
  
From across the room, Root easily reads Shaw’s amusement from the casual way she’s standing. She’s interested in seeing how far her other half is willing to let Claire go before once again putting her in her place.  
  
Shaw simply waits for Claire to convey her thoughts about the plan that she and ‘Spiderman’ have conceived. She can feel the muscle near one eye wanting to twitch at the lack of understanding from Claire. Her brusque, “Well?” not only has Claire blinking but also ‘Spiderman’, Elias and even Harold.  
  
As for Root, her reaction was the extreme opposite of everyone else, she was smiling. In fact she was trying not to laugh when she saw the slight quirk of lips that signified how little Shaw thought of Claire’s abilities. She can even feel the internal eye roll when Claire says, “What?” Oh, this was going to get interesting.  
  
Shaw steps closer letting, not her anger, but her disgust with Claire’s inability to adjust to the rapidly changing situation. “Do you have anything pertinent to add or are you just waiting to be told what to do and where to go?” When she fails to make any kind of response, Shaw starts to turn towards ’Spiderman’ but stops when she hears, “Nothing I say will change what you’ve already decided.”  
  
In the blink of an eye, Shaw is in Claire’s face. “Really?” Her tone drops to an icy demeanor that sends a shiver of excitement down Root’s back. “You’ve walked into a situation that is deeper and far more complex than the simple contracts you’re use to fulfilling. If you fail, it’s nothing more than a lost contract. If we fail, we die. And for me,” her eyes connect with Root’s, the meaning clearly understood, “failure is no longer an option.” Her eyes return to Claire’s. “So if you have something to say, say it. Otherwise shut up, sit down and just maybe you’ll get out of this situation alive to enjoy the proceeds of the contract.”  
  
With no response from Claire, Shaw turns back to the diagram she and ‘Spiderman’ had been working on. “Where were we?” To her surprise, Claire appears next to her. “It would need to be a small explosion to keep it from attracting any unwanted attention.”  
  
‘Spiderman’ nods in agreement. “Anything too large would have the authorities and the media investigating and that would make it difficult to control the situation.”  
  
“What’s in the warehouse that would attract the interest of Root and Shaw?”  
  
“Debris recovered from the large building that imploded recently.”  
  
Claire turns to Shaw, her eyes wide at the destruction she had seen on the news, “That was you?”  
  
“No.” Shaw tension is invisible to everyone but Root. “It was the man who issued the contracts.”  
  
Whoever wanted them dead was willing to go to whatever extreme was needed to succeed. Claire’s eyebrows literally lift off her head at this revelation. “He blew up an entire building to kill you?”  
  
No, to kill The Machine but Shaw is pretty sure that trying to explain to Claire what Greer was really trying to destroy is not something she has time to explain. So she opts for the easier answer. “Yes.” Shaw looks at the layout of the warehouse and has a sudden thought, “And he will again.”  
  
“What?”  
  
“Once our deaths are verified, he’ll blow the warehouse just to make sure. He’s proved time and time again collateral damage is of no concern to him. But if we control the explosions we can use them to our advantage.” She turns to ‘Spiderman’, “Are there any smugglers tunnels connecting the warehouses?”  
  
Root watches as Shaw, ’Spiderman’, Claire and even Elias begin discussing which of the smuggler’s tunnels are in good enough shape for their escape. “How’s she doing?” She turns to Harold, “Considering everything that Greer forced her to endure, remarkably well.”  
  
Harold nods knowing that Root would never betray Shaw’s secrets unless her life depended on it and he’s not even sure that threat would force her to talk.  
  
As for Root, she hadn’t been physically captured by Greer and yet she was still collateral damage. Her relentless determination to find Shaw was terrifying, in its ruthlessness, heartbreaking with every failure and devastating in the physical toll it took on the former hacker. So rather than delving further into what Greer and his people had forced Shaw, and Root to an extent, to endure, he concentrated on the present. He had seen enough of the darker side of the human psyche to have an inkling what Shaw had endured. But he was sure what he thought she had endured and what really happened was not something he truly wanted to know. Shaw had what she needed to recover from Greer’s actions and that was Root. And vice versa.  
  
“And how are you doing?”  
  
Root turns to Harold, her eyes reflecting, only for a moment, everything she had endured, everything Shaw had endured. Her eyes blink and the perky hacker of old reappears, “You know me Harry, I’m a survivor.” She glances at Shaw. “We both are.” She turns back to the computer. “Do we have any new information on where Greer has set up Samaritan’s new base?”  
  
Harold knows there’s more but this is neither the time nor the place to delve into the intricacies that are Root and Shaw. For now he’ll offer his support because he’s learned that Root and Shaw can’t be pushed into revealing anything until they are ready.  
  
He shakes his head in amazement at the two differing codes that somehow had combined into one that was stronger and more resilient. He’d never admit it out loud, but there were times, especially now, that he could see the lines of code that connected them. It was a connection that was written about in movies and literature but never seen in real life until now.  
  
He truly believes that this connection, with the addition of Shaw’s extreme stubbornness and Root’s ruthless determination, is what kept both women alive and fighting to find each other.  
  
He almost feels sorry for Greer when Root and Shaw catch up with him. Normally he’s against retributive justice but there are times when this extreme punishment becomes a necessity. And Greer, not just for what he did to Shaw but his threat to humanity, fits the bill.  
  
✶✶✶  
  
Bodil sits in the car occasionally glancing at her brother who is taking her to an unknown location but mostly she’s in deep thought about how everything she thought she knew was wrong. She had spent the last six years of her life tracking the ghost known as Radicle only to discover she had been not only pursuing the wrong person but for the wrong reason.  
  
_She remembers sneaking into the morgue, opening the cabinet door and pulling her brother’s lifeless body out. How scared, even in death, he looked. She remembered their struggles to survive as kids and now wonders how she can live without him._  
  
_That night she broke into the cafe and stood there staring at the blood where he had died. Suddenly Oleg was standing next to her. She can hear the pain in his voice when he reminds her what needs to be done. “Whoever took him from us must be made to pay.”_  
  
_She kneels and places one hand in the dried blood and swears that she will find who did this and they will, eventually, pay with their life. Her tears mix with his dried blood._  
  
_Oleg removes a handkerchief and swirls it in the tears and blood. He folds it and places it in Bodil’s hand and close her fingers over it. She remembers him telling her, “For when you need to remember why you’re on this journey.”_  
  
She had become an unfeeling, unemotional shell of a woman and she had let Greer take advantage of it. She knew Greer wasn’t to be trusted but when he gave her the files she should have know that something was off. As much as it pains her to admit it, Root had been right when she said, _“Greer is very astute at offering exactly the right motivation to add allies.”_ Everything in the files fed her beliefs about Radicle/Root. As well as the alleged threats she and her friends were to Greer and his associates.  
  
“Where are we going?”  
  
Hávarðr glances at his sister, “To get you your answers.”  
  
“That I highly doubt.”  
  
“Bodil, I…” He stops talking when she raises her hand. “Don’t. I agreed to come and listen to whomever we’re going to see but don’t try and explain…just don’t.” She turns and looks out the window getting lost in her thoughts.  
  
Once she would never have questioned anything Hávarðr said. But the man sitting next to is her brother and yet he isn’t. This man is not someone she knows or truthfully someone she can’t trust.  
  
A part of her is wondering if this isn’t just part of a very elaborate trap, by who she wasn’t sure. If it was a trap, why her and what would they want from her? She shifts slightly as if she was simply changing her position but in reality she was making sure her weapons are in place and readily accessible.  
  
She had been relentless in her search for Radicle letting nothing or anyone stand in her way. She had followed every lead, no matter how old it was or even if it was only a rumor all to no avail. But as focused and determined she had been, she lost that concentration the moment she knew Radicle would soon be within her grasp.  
  
With ever thrown fist that thudded into Radicle’s body didn’t lessen any of the pain or anger that was raging through her. And yet when Radicle began to talk, which of course was nothing more than a tactic to win her freedom, a part of her began to question what she actually knew about the events in the cafe. It had only taken one look at the bloody handkerchief for all of the pain to return. And that pain was going to be focused entirely on Radicle. Then, Shaw happened.  
  
Every punch she threw, Shaw absorbed and seemed to get stronger as the fight continued. For the first time in a very long time she had felt true fear when Shaw had slammed her into the wall. Why Shaw hadn’t killed her was a question she had asked herself during her recovery. Luckily her collarbone hadn’t been completely fractured. Though the Doctor had recommended either a sling or having her arm strapped to her chest to minimize the pain and any movement.  
  
Every ounce of pain had been reduced to nothing the moment she had laid eyes on the ghost of Hávarðr. Except he wasn’t a ghost. He was a living, walking and breathing person. So stunned she hadn’t felt the pain in either her shoulder or her collarbone when she had pinned him to the wall.  
  
She knew the pain would return but for now the shock of her brother being alive was enough to keep it in the background.  
  
Hávarðr glances at Bodil and knows she’s right. He’s hurt her far worse than the orphanage they had run away from. To survive they had been forced to live on the streets of Kirkenes and then in the Andersgrotta. He hopes that in time she’ll forgive him for doing what he thought was right.  
  
He pulls into a marina and turns off the vehicle. Not waiting for Bodil, he exits the vehicle and walks toward a yacht that’s tied up at the end of the pier. A slight smile appears when he hears the car door open and closely followed by footsteps on the pier behind him.  
  
He boards the yacht and disappears inside.  
  
Bodil stops on the dock and studies the yacht. She knows she could leave now and disappear but she knows she won’t. The answers she’s been searching for apparently resides within the yacht. But one thing she does know is that no matter what she’s about to find out will change the fact that those she trusted the most lied to her.  
  
She strides forward and boards the yacht. What she finds waiting for her is a shock and yet considering everything she’s been through it’s really not that surprising.  
  
✶✶✶  
  
Sameen's eyes are closed as she leans against a pillar in a different room when her senses warn her that someone has entered the room. She relaxes when she feels Root’s arms slide around her. She leans into the reassuring presence. Neither woman needs to talk as they draw strength from each other.  
  
“One of the simulations, we rescued Finch from Greer’s men. You got…”  
  
“Shot and died.”  
  
Sameen turns in Root’s arms a questioning look on her face. Root shrugs, “You’d mutter during some of your nightmares.”  
  
“Why didn’t you say something?”  
  
“Sweetie, I knew you’d talk when you were ready.” Root tilts her head in thought and her eyes widen as she remembers Shaw touching her hand when they were discussing them being in the morgue when they faked their deaths. “The morgue.”  
  
Sameen looks away from Root’s caring gaze. “Yeah. I had fought so hard to get back to you and you die without me being able to see you. It was almost too much and I almost gave up.”  
  
Root’s eyes widen, “Why didn’t you?”  
  
“Because of something you said, ‘If this is just a simulation then who cares if we die.’ And that,” she meets Root’s understanding eyes, “gave me hope that your death was just a simulation.”  
  
Root’s voice is soft and almost fearfully of learning the answer to the question she’s about to ask, “How many simulations?”  
  
Sameen shrugs her shoulders, “How many you died in I don’t know. But I escaped soon after that epiphany.”  
  
“What does 5, 3 and 13 mean?” She can feel the deep breath Sameen takes and the despair is easily heard in her soft, “Your grave marker in Potter’s Field.”  
  
To Root’s surprise, though with everything that’s happen she shouldn’t have been surprised when, it’s Sameen who steps closer and tightens her arms around Root and kisses her. The kiss sends a healing warmth through both woman.  
  
There were still plans to make, battles to fight, an evil AI to destroy and Greer’s repayment for crimes against humanity. But for now the world around them ceased to exist.  
  
  
  
TBC  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  



	7. Chapter 7

Chapter 7  
  
The lead technician working on the servers is not happy with what his readings are telling him. Every server they’ve run a diagnostic check on has failed to detect the self replicating code that has seemingly infected this version of the Samaritan program. They have isolated each server and still nothing has been found. Now he has to tell Mr. Greer that they have only two options and neither is good.  
  
Lost in his thoughts he jumps at the terse, “Have you found the code?” He turns to find Greer, in his wheelchair, sitting behind him. The only saving grace is that Bodil, just the thought of her sends a shiver of fear through his body, isn’t with him. He takes a breath knowing full well, and that depends on how understanding Greer is, that what he is about to say could very well be the last thing he ever says. “We’ve isolated each server and nothing appears amiss on the diagnostics. Whoever wrote this code is one of the most talented code writers I’ve ever seen.”  
  
A slight tensing of Greer’s eyebrow has the technician stiffening at what was about to be said. “What do you need?” Is not what he was expecting. “We need to do a master reboot of the program and replace every server. Then one by one reconnect the servers while running a full diagnostic as each is connected.”  
  
This isn’t the first set back Greer’s encountered with setting up the Samaritan program. He and his cohorts had spent years setting up the infrastructure while the program was being written. When they heard the rumors of a successful AI being brought online they switched from writing the code to finding who had succeeded.  
  
His intelligence network discovered that there was hard drive copies for a program called Samaritan that had been created by Arthur Claypool. One of his operatives was able to switch the hard drives after they were taken out of a bank vault.  
  
Samaritan was soon up and operating until he had made the mistake of falling for the ruse of Root surrendering.  
  
In an attempt to destroy The Machine, he had blown up the main compound. A move which had forced them to use the Alpha site until it was also compromised and he had been forced to activate the Beta site. Unfortunately the backup copy of the Samaritan program had been damaged when Shaw had shot it.  
  
And now the current issue with the servers was a set back, but he still had the majority of the infrastructure in place so they weren’t starting from scratch. But unfortunately this solution wasn’t going to be corrected with brute force, bribes or the elimination of any opposition. It was going to take time and a new shipment of clean servers. Both of which he had an abundance of. “And this will work?”  
  
The Technician nods. “It should unless the bad code is within the Samaritan program. And if that happens, the only way we can stop it is by doing a master delete of this version and rebooting from a clean backup.”  
  
Unseen by either man a red light on the diagnostic equipment slowly illuminates for a few seconds and then fades away.  
  
Shock appears on the technician’s face when the sound of hard drives beginning to cycle up is heard. He turns to find the lights on the servers closest to them start to flash as each server powers up.  
  
The technician turns and begins to check his equipment. He’s stunned to see the readings that indicate that somehow his diagnostic equipment is ordering the servers to power up.  
  
“What’s happening?”  
  
“The servers are being directed to turn on.”  
  
“Turn them off. Now!”  
  
The technician tries to turn off two of the servers but to his astonishment the power buttons fails to work. “This isn’t possible.” He tries again and again but to no avail.  
  
Greer leans forward watching the Technician frantically flipping the power switch on the servers. “Why aren’t they powering off?”  
  
“The switches on the servers have been deactivated.”  
  
Rather than trying any other power buttons he runs to the wall where the main power line is located and begins to type in the password to shut down all the power to the room. On the monitor is the flashing words access denied. “Damn it.” He types in the password again and again the words access denied flashes across the screen. He suddenly realizes what he hears or rather what he doesn’t hear and that is the lack of the hum of the cooling fans on each server. He also realizes that he no longer feels the cooling air needed to help keep the servers from overheating. He looks up at the vents just as a burst of hot air slams into his face. His eyes widen at what’s about to happen.  
  
“Everybody get out. Get out now.”  
  
Greer’s guard quickly pushes the wheelchair out of the room followed by the other technicians. As the last person exits the room one of the servers begins to overheat and soon more are overheating. Sparks, smoke and the smell of burning electronics begins to fill the room.  
  
Outside the server room, the lead technician waits for the fire suppression equipment to activate but nothing happens. He runs to the manual activation controls and begins to turn the knobs. He can only hope that the fire suppression will do what it’s designed for. What he does know is that none of the servers will be salvageable. As for the Samaritan program, he can only hope that there is a backup because the current one may be infected with virus or was more compromised, bullets slamming into the memory chips were not helpful, than the tests showed.  
  
He turns when he hears Greer talking on his phone. “No.” He grabs the phone from a startled Greer, quickly powers it off before opening the back and removing the battery. An emotionless, “Would you care to explain…” normally would have sent fear through the Technician.  
  
He holds up the phone. “Every time you entered the server room this phone, entered with you. And if I’m right, the activation code is contained within it.”  
  
Greer studies the man neither confirming or denying the statement. “How long before the room can be cleared?”  
  
The Technician wants to say as soon as the fire is out, the room cleared, new diagnostic equipment is ordered and run full diagnostics on all of the wiring and circuits, but he knows that is not what Greer wants to hear. So instead he tells Greer what he wants to hear, “It’ll be ready before the new servers arrive.”  
  
“The new servers will be checked and shipped.”  
  
“No.”  
  
Greer’s eyes narrow at the Technician. “Do you have a problem?”  
  
The Technician swallows but forges ahead. “Sir, to be safe none of the new servers should be powered up until they are here and my people have run full diagnostics on each one. It’s the only way to ensure that they haven’t been compromised in any manner.”  
  
Everyone waits to see how Greer is going to react and to their relief he nods in agreement. “That is an understandable concern. Order whatever equipment and manpower you need to get the room ready. I’ll have the new servers readied for shipment.” He nods to the guard and is pushed down the hallway.  
  
“And a clean version of the program?”  
  
The guard continues to push Greer down the hallway. “That is my concern.”  
  
The technician breathes a sigh of relief that he is still alive after insinuating that the virus had entered the server through Greer’s phone. He turns to the shocked group of technicians, “We have a lot of work to do before the new servers arrive. Every computer including the diagnostic equipment needs to be replaced. Nothing in that room is to be used again.” Everyone begins moving to get the necessary equipment needed to clear out the server room.  
  
✶✶✶  
  
Bodil’s eyes narrow as she stares at the man standing next to her brother. “Hello Oleg.”  
  
“Bodil.”  
  
Her voice is laced with anger as she asks, “How long have you’ve known Hávarðr was alive?”  
  
Oleg had survived banishment to Siberia, a rowboat ride through the Arctic Ocean when he had escaped. But the angry woman before him had those escapades feeling like a stroll in the park. “For the past year.”  
  
He could hear the hurt in her terse, “And you didn’t think it was something I needed to know?”  
  
“I couldn’t.”  
  
Her laugh is harsh. “Let me guess it was for my protection.”  
  
“Yes.”  
  
“Tull. (Bullshit)”  
  
“Bodil…”  
  
“No! Neither of you get to talk.” She takes a deep breath. “I want to talk to whoever concocted this idiotic scheme.”  
  
Hávarðr steps back and points toward a closed door. “Everything you need to know is in there.”  
  
Bodil doesn’t hesitate as she strides toward the door, opens it and pauses. Without looking back she says, “We’ll talk about your deceptions later.” She disappears inside.  
  
The slamming of the door has Oleg and Hávarðr jumping before looking at each other. Both are wondering how she’s going to react when she learns the truth.  
  
She leans against the closed door and looks around. She snorts when she finds the room empty except for a monitor, a desk and one chair. “Why am I not surprised?” The monitor turns on and to her surprise, **Hello Bodil** , appears on the screen. She looks around trying to find who’s behind the text on the screen. She sees nothing out of the ordinary and shakes her head. “I don’t know what game you’re playing but I’m not interested.”  
  
**This is not a game.**  
  
Her eyes narrow at the words on the screen. “Really? Then show yourself and we’ll talk.” No one appears and nothing happens. “That’s what I thought.”  
  
On the monitor pictures begin to appear of Bodil and the many places she had searched in her relentless pursuit for vengeance. Pictures of her staring at the bloody handkerchief, of her tossing and turning from a nightmare, of her following people and so may more that they became a blur. But she remembers the context of every picture.  
  
Bodil is stunned at the sheer volume of pictures of her that have appeared on the monitor. Most she never knew had been taken. “How…Who…What are you?”  
  
The barrage of pictures end and what appears, **I am what your brother was searching for** , has her abruptly sitting down. She knew her brother had been following the rumors of a revolutionary AI. That rumor is what, she later learned, lead to the fateful meeting with Radicle/Root. A multitude of questions are racing through her mind but one is more prominent. “You sent Shaw to kill my brother?”  
  
**No.**  
  
Bodil’s mind continues to race and remembers that Shaw never said she had killed her brother but rather, _“I’m the one who shot your brother.”_  
  
If Shaw hadn’t been sent to kill then there was only one logical conclusion, “Shaw’s orders were to only wound Hávarðr?”  
  
**Yes.**  
  
If it weren’t for the pain from her various injuries, Bodil would almost think that everything was a dream albeit a very bad one. “Why…why would you send that order?”  
  
**Hávarðr’s talents were needed.**  
  
“And I wasn’t needed?” It came out as a question but in reality it was a statement. And was proven true when the AI didn’t answer. “Was Root also being protected?”  
  
**Yes**.  
  
“Why was Oleg told and not me?”  
  
**He had knowledge of this man.** A picture of Greer appears on the screen.  
  
A snarled, “Greer,” would have had the man cringing if he had been in the room. Suddenly it dawns on Bodil why she is sitting in this room. “You need my help to find Greer and his program.”  
  
**Yes.**  
  
Bodil stares at the flashing cursor as everything she has learned races through her mind. She had been wrong about so many things but there was one thing she was right about. Greer was a dangerous man. There were still a vast quantity of past issues that needed to be dealt with but for now her priority is to help find Greer and shut him and his program down permanently. Once that was accomplished she’d deal with the betrayal of the two people she thought she could trust. Her mind made up, she takes a deep breath, “What do you need me to do?”  
  
✶✶✶  
  
Harold has various searches running when a text box appears on his monitor informing him that there has been a marked increase of activity around building 603 in the Old Philadelphia Naval yard. He had tracked a number of the servers that had diverted from delivery to oversea locations to this location. This site provided easy transport by rail, truck or by ship, though that would produce other problems in shipping the servers.  
  
He begins a search for the network of the old naval yard so that he can access the security cameras.  
  
“Elias?”  
  
Elias turns and walks over to Harold. ‘Spiderman’ and Claire continue studying the layouts of the old warehouses. They are quietly discussing issues that one or the other has observed.  
  
“Was there something you needed Harold?”  
  
Harold’s eyes flicker around as he shifts in his seat. “Do you have any connections in the old Philadelphia Navel yard?”  
  
Elias pauses before answering. “I may have. Is there something in particular you were wanting?”  
  
He turns the monitor so that Elias can see the text box. “I believe we’ve found the Omega site where Greer is storing the diverted servers. There has been an increase in activity which may mean the servers are being readied for shipment.”  
  
“What do you need?”  
  
“Eyes on the ground watching every possible exit including ships and rail. We also would need all information on anything that leaves that part of the naval yard. Even if it’s a routine repair truck.”  
  
“You think they’d ship each server individually?”  
  
Harold meets Elias’ eyes. “It’s possible. But that depends on how desperate Greer is for the servers. And if they are shipped one by one, it would make it that much harder to track each and every one. It would be helpful if we could determine the cargo of every vehicle leaving, but that would require stopping and inspecting every vehicle. Also it could alert Greer that we’ve located some of the servers.”  
  
“And he would abandon the Naval Yard and its contents.”  
  
“Yes. And it could cost us our best chance to find where Greer has relocated Samaritan.  
  
Elias smiles and it’s a smile that has Harold’s eyes widening in what it could mean. “What if they were forced to ship all of the servers at once.”  
  
“Exactly what would compel them to do that?”  
  
Rather than answer, Elias simply smiles and walks away. He takes out a cell phone and dials a number and begins quietly talking.  
  
A beep from the computer has Harold turning to find he now has access to all of the security feeds at the Naval yard. He begins typing to try and locate any hidden networks that Greer and his people may be using.  
  
Any and all activity around building 603 in the Naval yard will be recorded. To be careful, he is also recording the activities of the surrounding buildings on the off chance that there is a underground tunnel connecting the various buildings. If there is a tunnel, the number of possible transports increases.  
  
Harold’s phone rings. “Mr. Reese, how are you and Detective Fusco?”  
  
_“We’re fine Harold. No new attempts. Any news on the contracts?”_  
  
“Elias has word out but until we can rectify the situation, you and Detective Fusco will have to continue to take precautions.”  
  
_“Understood.”_  
  
Harold ends the call and returns to work on his computer.  
  
✶✶✶  
  
Lionel looks over at Reese. “What did glasses have to say?”  
  
“To take precautions.”  
  
A snort of amusement has Reese lifting an eyebrow. “Something funny Lionel?”  
  
He shakes his head. “You taking precautions is like telling Shaw she can’t have steak. Not gonna happen.”  
  
“Are you implying I can’t be careful?”  
  
Lionel looks around the squad room to see if anyone is paying attention to them. “You must have hit your head one time to many if you’ve forgotten what you do when you’re not playing Detective.” He sits back in thought. “Though you’re not careful when you are playing Detective. So either way you’re not careful.”  
  
“Really?”  
  
“Yep. See I want to be around for Lee but also to see whether it’s Shaw or Root that pops the question.”  
  
“We both know who will be asking that question.”  
  
“Care to bet on that?”  
  
“What’s the wager?”  
  
“If it’s Shaw, you stop ribbing me about Mo.”  
  
“And if it’s Root?”  
  
“I’ll do your paperwork for a month.”  
  
Shaw being the one to ask Root to marry her was not out of the realm of possibility but this is Shaw we’re talking about. Though she has changed due to Root, Reese just can’t see her as being the one to ask. Root, yes, Shaw, no. Besides if he does lose and has to quit ribbing Lionel about Mo, doesn’t mean Root and Shaw will have to stop the teasing. “Deal.”  
  
Lionel sits back trying to figure out why Reese is agreeing so fast. Then he realizes that if Reese loses, he’ll make sure Root and Shaw know about Mo. And that means relentless teasing. “No telling Root and Shaw about Mo.”  
  
“Now Lionel, that wasn’t part of the bet.”  
  
Lionel shrugs, “You don’t tell them and I won’t tell Shaw that you didn’t have faith in her being able to pop the question? I’m sure she’ll have something to say about that. Or rather she’ll challenge you to a sparring match. Think you can survive a pissed off Shaw?”  
  
Reese sits back contemplating exactly how Shaw would respond to his lack of faith in her and it’s not something he wants to experience. His eyes narrow as he looks at his partner, “Lionel you’ve become devious.”  
  
He laughs, “Considering the people I have to deal with on a daily basis, being devious is a needed part of my job.”  
  
“Which job?”  
  
Lionel shrugs, “Both.”  
  
Reese nods and asks, “Wonder who she’ll pick as best man?”  
  
He meets Lionel’s eyes and in unison they say, “Bear.”  
  
✶✶✶  
  
“Root?”  
  
Root leans back but keeps her arms around Sameen’s neck. “We need to get back.”  
  
“Yeah. I still don’t trust your groupie.”  
  
Root’s melodious laughter fills the room. “Sweetie,” She holds up her left hand, “the only groupie I have eyes for is you.”  
  
Sameen rolls her eyes, “Remind me again why I put up with you.”  
  
A teasing sparkle in Root’s eyes is all the warning Sameen gets before she’s pushed up against a column. She leans closer and each word of her whispered, “Sweetie, as much as I would love to show the many and I mean many reasons why you put up with, unfortunately we don’t have the time,” has their lips barely touching. Each touch creates a banked ember that is always on the brink of flaring into a four alarm fire.  
  
As Root starts to step back she’s spun around and slammed into the column. Before she can say anything she’s pulled into a searing kiss that shook both women. Reluctantly the kiss ends but both stay close breathing in the scent of their other half. A muffled noise has Root lifting her head. “What?”  
  
Sameen leans back, “I said lets go and kick Greer’s ass.”  
  
“Okay. But this time I get to shoot the Samaritan program.”  
  
Sameen’s eyes narrow, “Why you?”  
  
“Because it’s my turn.”  
  
“How exactly is it your turn?”  
  
“I shot Martine in the warehouse and you shot her in the compound. You shot the toolbox Greer was carrying so it’s my turn.”  
  
Sameen is rolling her eyes. “Fine you can shoot Samaritan, but I get Greer.”  
  
“You already shot him once. Greer’s mine.”  
  
“He owes me.”  
  
A glare faces off with a smug smile, “How about we do it together?”  
  
Now the last thing Root was expecting to hear was a chuckle. “Are we really arguing over who gets to shoot Greer?”  
  
Root tilts her head to one side. “We are.”  
  
Sameen shakes her head and starts to walk out of the room. She pauses at the door and looks back, “Are you coming?” The toothy smile that appears on Root’s face has Sameen groaning and fully expecting the, “Sweetie. I’m always coming with you.”  
  
Still shaking her head Sameen exits the room followed by Root. They had a meeting with Greer but first they needed to deal with their deaths.  
  
  
TBC


End file.
